The World Inside a Castle
by SilentVocaloid
Summary: Alfred, an enthusiastic American is forced to go and live in England all by himself when he's not even thirteen. Upon discovering Arthur his odd roommate among the other strange students in the all-boys academy he's been enrolled in, Alfred has to see the difference between the person he really is, and the person he wants people to see him as. Multi-pairing, Complete!
1. A new home in a new time zone

**Chapter One – New home in a new time zone**

"Oh my _God. _It's like Hogwarts only _real."_ Alfred's wide blue eyes goggled up at the carefully carved towers of the limestone fortress that lay before him. He let his eyes bathe in the beautiful structure of Goverek Castle. Built in the 14th century and still standing to this day, it was one impressive lump of carved rock.

"Well Alfie, this is as far as we can go with you, honey," Alfred's mother smiled her loving, sweeter than sugar smile and weakly wiped a teeny tear from the corner of her eye, grasping a hold of her husband's hand for support, "You'll be fine. Absolutely fine, right?"

Alfred wasn't too sure if she was trying to convince him or herself, so just settled with a dog-like grin and enveloped his parents in a bone-crushing hug, "I'll miss you guys!"

Cautiously, his father eyed him suspiciously, "Don't do anything we wouldn't want you to do. I know what you kids can be like these days…" with a prompting glare from his wife, Alfred's father forced a smile on his stiff, usually frowning face, "It's just as your mother says, though - you'll be fine."

Taking a deep breath and nervously smiling at his parents, Alfred took a step away from the two, grasping hold of his wheelie-suitcase and recited the words he'd practiced all week, "Mom, Dad - everything will be _fine_. I'll graduate from this school with awesome grades, a handful of friends, and I'll be a new guy! You'll hardly recognize me. I'll call you later to tell you how everything's going, so don't worry."

With a final glance back and a confident wink, the America spun on his heels, dragging the rolling suitcase behind him, and stepping inside the wrought iron gates of Goverek's Boys Only Boarding School. As they clearly stated in the motto, it was 'Guaranteed education, guaranteed life, guaranteed fun.' Alfred was going to test that theory.

Goverek, for those of you who don't know – most don't, much like Alfred a few weeks prior - is a small area in the harbour town of Padstow, which lay in the county of Cornwall, which is in the South West of England.

_England. _That was three _thousand_, two hundred and fifty miles away from home.

Alfred sighed as he walked, replaying the scene that had played out only a few weeks ago, where he'd had to say a huge goodbye to all his friends that he'd known since the age of three and even earlier. He missed Washington, and although his parents had convinced him that he could hop on a plane whenever he felt like it, it just wasn't the _same_ as living there.

Back in Washington, Alfred had been the centre of it all. Everyone loved him for his playful attitude, hero complex and looks that were developing _very_ slowly from cute to handsome. Most of all he was known for his 'awesome as hell' personality that was like a narcissistic, naïve yet loveable Labrador, which everyone fell for. America was his _home_, and yes, England was a nice country, for a _holiday_ but not to _live_. It was too… rich… Everyone judged you on your money, drove on the wrong side of the road and it rained too much.

But, as if living in a foreign country wasn't _enough_ torture, Alfred had been enrolled in an all boy's boarding school, where the most useful lessons they taught would be how to successfully come out of the closet.

Well, maybe that was a little harsh. Alfred didn't like being judged, so he shouldn't judge others. Yes, Goverek had a bit of a reputation for being the gay school of the area, but an awful lot of single-gender schools have a notorious reputation for homosexual students. And that didn't mean there wouldn't be straight kids in it… They'd just be few and far between.

No, Alfred thought, he'd have to be positive about this! Though part of him cast his memory back to the thing's he'd heard about the school the other day while exploring the town.

Alfred had taken it upon himself to do some SAS training, and while out getting groceries for his mother, he'd overheard many a comment about his new school and home. From his very sneaky eavesdropping skills, he'd managed to come up with a realistic sounding synopsis for the school. It _seemed_ that it was a school for the more well off population, but he'd already known that, as his mother had been quite sure to tell him that first. Most _were_ gay, and their parents just didn't seem to have enough time for their sons at the school. It's grades were pretty close to perfect (his father wouldn't stop drilling that point into his head) but he'd heard a particularly nasty rumour about the Principle's preferred method of punishment - 'Just picture a torture chamber, and you're on the right track' Alfred recalled his eavesdropping victim's words with a shiver.

Weirdly enough, another common denominator of the school seemed to be that most of the students were foreign, like him ("Like _internationally _foreign! You should _see_ the French guy!" Swooned the girl Alfred had heard) and, for some obscure reason most students played an instrument, and those who didn't seemed to be shunned and viewed as delinquents. How weird do English schools _get?_ Well, Alfred would be okay when armed with his acoustic guitar and vocal chords of steel!

But, now he was faced with it in the flesh - or rather stone - Alfred seemed to want to forget about all the terrible rumours he'd heard. As the boy had earlier stated, it _did_ look like a less-fancy version of Hogwarts, and he was going to _live_ here, which was the weird part. He weaved through arches in the courtyard, trying to remember the picture of the map he'd seen on the internet and the route he needed to take to get to the Principle's office, rather than looking like a complete douche and getting out his hard copy of the map like some sort of lost tourist. His sky blue eyes goggled up at the gargoyles perched on the outer building that seemed to be glaring down at Alfred through their stony eyes, as if knowing he didn't _really_ belong here. They were freaking creepy, and just so _British._

Why did it always have to rain here? Alfred thought bitterly to himself as he noticed the dark clouds rolling in, and made quick to a little side door into the school. He'd have to try and find the office of his new Principle the inside, maze-like way, 'cause he sure as hell was _not_ getting wet.

Bring it on, England, Alfred thought, swallowing his nerves and, with a determined grin, began wondering the paths of his new home.

* * *

It was coming up to the end of the Easter holidays, and students all over the country were sharing the same, united groan of dreaded defeat as they mentally counted down the days they had left of fake-freedom before being shoved back into the hell-holes that had been christened schools. And, like usual, before they knew it, dawn broke and the final day of the holidays began for the citizens of Britain.

Feliciano rose and, instead of his usual cheery morning ritual of jumping out of his own bed, and wriggling in beside his roommate, Ludwig, he just sat there for a minute, counting the days off in his head. When he realized the date he let out a very out-of-character groan, and collapsed back onto his pillow, pulling the covers over his head as if he was trying to block out the entire world and just live in his cave of warm bed sheets.

In just 24 hours he'd be forced to begin the frustrating routine of school again.

Like most of the students at Goverek Boarding School, Feliciano had chosen to stay in the building over the holidays rather than fly _all_ the way back to Italy and avoid his drunken, sexually frustrated parents, but this didn't make the holidays boring.

On the contrary, that was pretty much the only positive thing about a school like this - the friends. Everyone seemed to be more than just _friends_; it was like everyone was family, and, although there were fights like in every family, everyone stuck together when it mattered most… Usually.

The holidays here were like a two-week-long lunch hour only _better._ Hell, you had a whole _castle_ to explore, and even though Feliciano had been in this school with his other friends for just over a year and a half now, there were still _many_ corridors yet to feel the wrath of the Axis Treasure-Quest Hunting Trio! Not only was the interior was a bonus - there were also at least 4 acres of spare, grassy land dotted in forests surrounding the castle. No one was really sure where the territory of the school started or ended, as it was surrounded by forests all around, and there were no clear markings, but that didn't stop boys getting constantly lost and confused in the many forests, both inside and outside of the school territory. Rumour had it there was even a little maze tucked off in a little corner of the land, though it was well hidden, as it was yet to be found.

One of the best things about the holidays though was the fact that there was usually a maximum of three teachers you had to avoid rather than your average twenty or thirty that prowled the grounds in term-time. Most of the teachers had retired for a little holiday back at their homes in the town, probably complaining to whoever would listen what little insufferable shits they had to teach. The ones that weren't complaining about the kids and their job were likely off drinking (at _all_ hours of the day) and complaining, again to anyone who would listen, about how terrible their life was and how they hadn't got laid in three years. Teachers have their problems too, you know. Feliciano knew this all too well, as his uncle was a teacher.

But the best of all was that all of this was at your mercy, along with your friends. In the holidays there were _no_ rules, and you and your best friends could do _anything. _Throw in an abundance of deserted classrooms and their top-quality facilities, free access to the canteen, and that was your average holiday.

Sadly, Feliciano thought, as the English saying goes, 'all good things must come to an end'… And that end was _now._ Why, oh why, oh why, oh _why?_

Feliciano was brought back to reality by a sharp rap on the door to his dormitory. A little confused on who it might be at this time of the morning, he waited for a moment to see if there was even a small chance of Ludwig getting up to get it, but it seemed his German roommate was either already up, or mourning at the loss of his holidays like Feliciano, though it was probably the first. Sheepishly, Feliciano pulled on a silky-robe-thing that Francis had given him for Christmas, and penguin-walked over to the door, now regretting leaving the warm bed.

He let the door creak open, looking at the disturber of his rest, only to realise just who was at his door.

"Wahh!" he let out a call of surprise, "S-Sir! What're you doing here at this time of the morning?" the Italian was blushing as he faced his Head Teacher in nothing more than a silky robe (that was hanging very, _very_ loosely) with nothing underneath.

"Mr. Vargas." the head teacher nodded awkwardly, "I hate to be the one that breaks the bad news to you, but it has already passed lunch time. I trust this will not be happening tomorrow, as I do not applaud late students, as you well know."

Avoiding the Head's eyes guiltily, the Italian could remember the time he'd been stupid enough to turn up late to class and how the Head had been determined to humiliate him by forcing him to recite a very graphic scene between two lovers in their English class.

"Anyway, I would like to introduce you to our new student here, Mr. Alfred F. Jones." the Head Teacher turned to a boy that was hiding in his shadow, and said to the teenager who was presumable Alfred Jones, "Alfred Jones, I would like you to meet Feliciano Vargas, he rooms with Ludwig Belischmidt, the German boy we passed in the corridors."

"Veh… so that's where he was… what corridor was he in, Sir?" Feliciano smiled instantly at the comforting thought of his best friend.

"I hate to inform you, Mr. Vargas, but I'm not your personal tour guide. I'm sure you'll be able to find Ludwig, but after you've done this little job for me," the Head said patronisingly. Feliciano frowned at his tone – the Head _always_ seemed to treat him like he was stupid, and that may be true, but Feliciano could _understand_ people. He wasn't so stupid he couldn't make out words, for God's sake!

The head continued primly, "Mr. Vargas, I'm entrusting you with a very important job, okay?" the insultingly condescending tone stayed in the teacher's voice; "I need you to take Mr. Jones around the school and introduce him to his classmates and show him where his classes are, understand?" he finished with a too-sweet smile.

Feliciano gazed back, nodding, more than a little offended and confused at the Head's tone, "Okay, sir! Feliciano is on the job!" like usual, though, Feliciano just ignored the confusion and carried on with his life with the addition of a huge grin.

"Good. Now, go and put some clothes on, boy." the Head turned to Alfred, prodding him in the back, coaxing him into the room, "Good luck, Mr. Jones. Don't worry, Mr. Vargas is harmless… Too harmless. Enjoy yourselves." he raised an eyebrow before turning on the heels of his shiny shoes and shutting the door.

"So, hi!" Feliciano greeted the new boy. Feliciano couldn't help but wonder why the boy looked so nervous. Ludwig had told him many a time that he was 'softer and less dangerous than a pink baby rabbit carrying a basket of chocolate'. Surely Alfred wasn't scared of _him!_

"H-Hey." Alfred smiled, more than a little confused.

"Right, you wait here, 'kay? I'm going to get changed, 'cause I can't really wonder around the school like this, can I? I tried it once, and Ludwig got really mad." Feliciano winced at the memory, muttering things about how scary it was on the journey to the bathroom.

Alfred looked around the room like a trapped lamb, not sure what to do. This school was freaking weird. Luckily he'd managed to stumble across the Principle's office on his travels before, and in the brief meeting the Principle had had with him, it had been explained that there was to be no misbehaving in the school, he'd get very good grades, 'sexual contact' was not permitted in public (Alfred could imagine the problems that would cause) and that he was to be rooming with a boy called Arthur Kirkland. Though, there was a weird little look that came across the Principle's face upon the mention of this Arthur kid, and Alfred wanted to find out more.

For some reason, the Principle had been very insistent on the fact that Alfred wasn't entering 7th Grade, and that he was entering a grade called 'Year Eight'. Alfred could only assume that this was the weird schooling method that the British had. His parents had tried explaining it to him, but it just went over his head, like a lot of things. The Principle was also very sure that he wasn't a Principle, and was to be called 'Head teacher', 'Head', or the preferred by most students 'Sir'

Now though, Alfred was stranded. He'd been thrown into a foreign school with hardly a penny to his name, and no friends, and his only acquaintance being the very odd, but strangely likable Italian who's room he was standing in.

Before Alfred could mentally complain about how crappy his life was any more, Feliciano hopped out of the bathroom door, wearing a rather stylish outfit that only someone like him - a flamboyant Italian - could pull off. Alfred smiled fondly at the rose pink shirt that the Italian wore, only using half the buttons than were provided though, as the top of the shirt hung open in a very European way, showing off his softly tanned chest. The shirt worked well with the cute, white bootleg jeans he wore and contrasting black Converse. The outfit was completely camp, but it did suit the guy very well.

"So, Alfred!" Feliciano grinned, "What brings you here?"

Alfred matched Feliciano's grin. The Italian was a nice enough guy, and the air headed-ness just made him even more likable, "You were going to take me on a tour?"

"Veh! That was it! Just let me call Ludwig, 'cause he's good at this stuff – he's a lot more useful than me, and he'd probably shout at me for doing it wrong if I didn't call him to help!" Feliciano sent a genuine smile at the American and he dialled in the numbers, waiting for his roommate to pick up.

"So… This Ludwig, what's he like?" Alfred asked, curious.

"Veh~ he's big and scary when he's angry, which is quite a lot. He shouts lots and lots~ but he's really nice! He's so kind to me, and he's the best, best of best friends ever! Not only that, but he's _super_ handsome. But that's not why I like him! I'm not shallow like that! I like what's on the inside most!" Feliciano finished his description with wide, eccentric hand gestures, almost dropping the phone in the process, and then suddenly realised that, in the middle of his animated description, Ludwig had picked up the phone, "Veh! Ludwig, _ciao!_"

There was silence for a moment or two until Feliciano answered back into the receiver, "We need your help! Meet us in the music room as soon as you can, 'kay?" and, presumably when Ludwig agreed and said goodbye, Feliciano grinned and hung up with a final _'ciao'_, closing his phone.

"Well, to the music room!" Feliciano grabbed Alfred's arm and pulled him through the door, "Come on, Alfred~! I wanna beat Ludwig there for once!" he grinned; running full pelt down the length of the corridor, screeching to a halt at the corner, and after changing direction began galloping down the next hallway, almost knocking over multiple vases in their wake.

"Wait up, Feliciano! I'm totally gonna beat you!" Alfred grinned wildly, racing off after the Italian, only realising that there was no possible way he could win, as he'd have to follow Feliciano to the music room, seeing as he had no idea where he was.

"I'd like to see you try! Coach Braginski says that 'I'm terrible at PE, until I'm faced with something scary, and then I'm the top of the class'! And I can tell you, it's scary thinking that you'd overtake me!" Feliciano called over his shoulder. Alfred had to admit he was a terribly fast runner.

Slowing his run down – he was getting exhausted already – Alfred smiled as he jogged around the corridors. If most guys in this school were like Feliciano, then he'd be fine. Though, something told Alfred that there were going to be a lot of people who _weren't_ like Feliciano. Whoever those people were, whether they were different to Feliciano for the better or for the worse, Alfred was going to make friends with them. Yes, Alfred vowed to himself. By the end of the term, Alfred would try and be friends with the entire school.

* * *

**A/N**

**So hey guys! Thank you very much for reading, it is much appreciated ^^ I know first chapters are never the best, and I think they're also the hardest to write. I promise you, it will get better!  
Right now, this is SilentVocaloid from the future you're reading X'D I'm going through all my chapters and proof-reading them, changing little bits, and hopefully will add things in. But nothing too plot-changing, so no worries there!  
I would like to thank you all for continued support throughout me writing this fic, as I have almost finished it now. I never would've thought I'd get 300+ reviews, and it's really boosted my confidence and made me a happy bunny :'D so to everyone who has read, reviewed, favourited, followed – hell, even _clicked_ on this fic, I can't thank you enough!  
For those of you who're new to this fic, thank you for reading :D I encourage you to review/follow/fave if you liked it, and it will get better, I promise you X'D if you don't believe me, then go and read it for yourself! XD  
Thank you _so_ much, you guys! **


	2. Multicolored music rooms

**Chapter Two – Multicoloured music rooms**

"You took your time, Feliciano." Ludwig smiled weakly, not really meaning his accusation and ruffling the Italian's auburn hair whenever he entered through the oversized, thick wooden door to the music room.

"Veh! Ludwig~!" Feliciano smiled up at the towering blonde.

Raising an eyebrow, Ludwig looked back at the cowering figure in the door, "And who's your friend?"

Alfred wasn't sure whether the German kid was going to hurt him or not - he was, as Italy had told him before, freaking _scary. _He was easily twice the size of Alfred, and had double the muscles. _How _he was friends with someone like _Feliciano _was beyond the American's already limited knowledge

"Ah! This is Alfred Jones! He's a new student here, that's great isn't it?" Feliciano grinned up at the German who was studying Alfred, who'd finally decided to come a little closer to the pair.

"Hmm… I've heard rumours about you; you're from America, right?" The German asked.

Grinning, though not as confidently as normal, at the mention of his country, Alfred did a miniature salute, "That's me!"

Ludwig just raised an eyebrow in return, nodding primly before giving all of his attention back to Feliciano, "What was it that you needed, Feliciano?" They were still weirdly formal for a pair of best friends… Or Ludwig was anyway.

Feliciano promptly explained their situation, and that the Head had requested for the little Italian to test out his Tour Guiding skills. Ludwig sneered slightly, obviously he wasn't too fond of the Head using Feliciano as his eager little errand dog, no matter how happy it made Feliciano to feel useful.

"So you want _my_ help as well?" Ludwig sighed, his gaze flicking between both Feliciano and Alfred matching grins that both screamed 'Please be kind to us - we're stupid'. Well, Ludwig thought to himself, if you can't beat them, join them. "Fine. Where are we starting?"  
Feliciano threw himself onto Ludwig, his skinny arms tight around the blonde's torso, in a very adorable little hug. Even Alfred could admit it looked kinda nice to have that relationship with someone where you were so comfortable you could hug at any moment, and no one would take it in the wrong way. Unless… What _was_ the deal between Ludwig and Feliciano? Alfred couldn't rule out the possibility that they were dating.

"Come on now, Feli," Ludwig weakly smiled, "Of course I'm going to help you; I'm your best friend, right?"

"Right!" Feliciano jumped in the air, "Well, we need to go and find Arthur, 'kay?"

At that, Ludwig set his jaw in stone, his expression suddenly hardening, "Oh brilliant. _Him."_

The Italian's face fell a little at this, "C'mon Ludwig… I know that it's Arthur, but we need to be nice to him, yeah? I mean it can't be fun in a situation like his…" The Italian was watching the marble floor carefully.

Sighing, Germany ruffled his friend's hair once more, "You care about others too much, Feliciano… But I guess that's why you're you, and you wouldn't be my kind hearted Feliciano without that part of you, would you? So, okay, I'll try my best to be nice to that stuck up idiot."

The grin that spread across the face of little Feliciano was like he'd just been told that Christmas had been put forward and combined with his birthday. Rolling his eyes, he pulled the younger boy into a light hug, before turning to Alfred.

"Arthur's in the music room on the other side of the school; I passed him earlier on my way back from the brass band practice. I'm sure you have been informed that this school is very… eager for students to be as musical as they are academic, so I suggest you start studying how to read music."

Winking and tapping his nose, Alfred was ahead of Ludwig's game, "Got that covered, man. My acoustic and me are like long lost brothers."

Ludwig raised an eyebrow, though Alfred wasn't too bright, he seemed likeable… Well, that could be stretching it a little, but he wasn't terrible.

"Well I guess there's no avoiding it, then… Let's go." Ludwig grumbled with a huge sigh, slowly lumbering himself over to the door, where Feliciano stood waiting, arms flapping and ready to run.

With a giggle, the Italian was gone, zooming down the corridor, calling behind him, "Race you, Alfred, Ludwig!"

Of course, neither of the walking boys accepted the challenge - Alfred was afraid he might get lost, and well, Ludwig was just being himself.

"So… What's the deal with Arthur? Why do you all act like he has the plague?" Alfred grinned slightly, tilting his head in question. No one seemed to want to answer him…

Ludwig seemed to be having trouble on how to phrase his words, as he come out with a lot of awkward starts of sentences that he quickly left mid-word, finally settling with a safe, "He's just a little… difficult. You'll understand whenever you meet him"

Alfred wasn't too sure if he heard Ludwig mutter '_god help you' _under his breath, or if the American's mind was playing tricks on him. He decided to shrug it off, continuing his information recruitment.

"But there must be a _reason_ everyone seems so tongue-tied when talking about him!" Alfred reasoned logically, "Just describe him in a sentence."  
Thinking again, Ludwig was silent, until a little smirk appeared on his face, "Forget about having a stick up his ass - he has a bloody forest stuck up there. I'm sure with that you can get the picture."

Also grinning, Alfred snickered; he knew _exactly_ the type of guy this Arthur would be now. A posh little English kid who thought he owned the place.

"And trust me, once you room with him for a week you'll be as tongue-tied as the rest of us." Ludwig warned.

"Now I can believe you!" Alfred sighed, smiling, at least he'd figured out the mystery behind this boy… Well, he thought he had anyway. "Hang on a second."

Ludwig cocked his head up from the floor in reply.

"Before, Feliciano said something about Arthur being in a bad situation?" Alfred narrowed his eyes slightly, wondering what else this English kid could possibly be hiding.

"Ah… yes that…" Ludwig muttered, "Well… this 'stuck up' little problem Arthur has doesn't exactly make him too popular…"

Nodding, Alfred beckoned for the German to continue.

"Lets just say he has quite a few more enemies than he does friends. Now lets leave it at that, yeah? You'll meet him soon enough," Ludwig stopped, nodding in front of him, "We're here."

"_Finally!"_ Feliciano grinned, hopping over to the two, "I thought you two would _never_ get here! I've been waiting for, like forever!" The little Italian turned around to look at the gigantic ebony door in front of them; it was exactly like the huge white door to the first music room, but black and a lot more sinister. Like a gate to the afterlife, Alfred shivered.

Creaking the golden door handle open, Feliciano poked his head inside, as if looking to see if anyone was there, "It's all clear, commander!" the Italian whispered to Ludwig, then turned to Alfred to explain, "we need to be really quite, kay? Arthur's… funny about people listening to his practice, kay?"

With a nod, the three were creeping through the small crack in between the doors that Feliciano had managed to create, and Alfred almost fainted about what the door was concealing.

The room was impossibly big - it was like the insides of a chapel, with a large, decorated ceiling fashioned of black marble. The walls were the same mysterious rock all the way down to the floor, which's been covered in neatly placed dark wooden floorboard, probably maple. Bookshelves lined the hard walls, made out of the same shiny, polished wood that was covering the floor. Books overflowed from the shelves, and when Alfred went to go and examine a few he found it they were full of everything musical, from composition theory to biographies from the likes of Lady Gaga and Green Day. Tables and armchairs lay almost randomly around the centre floor space, and each one of them had at least one instrument on - one sofa seemed to have a whole brass band just strewn out on the inviting leather cushions. It was, admittedly, fucking impressive. The gigantic window at the back was the only source of light, and half of it was draped with a blood-red velvety curtain that stood out in the room of black.

"Our school is… A little sentimental about things like this…" Ludwig explained in a low whisper, "We have a number of music rooms throughout the school, each of them themed to a different colour. The most popular is the white room, the one we were in before, and I presume people find it a little more calming. But this room," Ludwig nodded his head, signalling to the room they were standing in, "the only person that uses it is your roommate."

Alfred cocked his head, curious. If what Ludwig had said was true, then where the _hell_ was Arthur? He wasn't on any of the grand pianos in this room, (yes. That was a plural. Three bloody grand pianos in one room) and there didn't seem to be any signs of them being used for a while.

Before Alfred could ask any more questions, Feliciano had grabbed his hand, tugging him down to the very corner of the room. As the group neared, a little, almost hidden door came into view, and if Alfred strained his ears, he could hear a very faint tinkle of gentle piano keys. They tip-toed right up to the door, peering through the glass, and Alfred finally found the player of the soft sound.

Through the door lay a little room, which was dimly lit only by a few candles and a small window, a similar red velvet curtain covering most of it. Most of the space in the room was taken up by a truly _beautiful _piano, by far the most impressive thing Alfred had ever laid eyes on. It was a huge, shiny black beast of an instrument that was being tamed, playing such a beautiful, almost heartbreaking melody by the boy himself - none other than the boy Alfred could only assume to be Arthur Kirkland, his roommate.

Arthur was sitting at the piano's lush stool, concentrating on nothing but the music around him. He seemed completely controlled by it, just letting the notes fly around him, bathing in his own music. His back was turned to the door, but from what Alfred could make of his appearance, he didn't look all too bad. Small and blonde, kinda sweet. Though the clothing-taste of an old man.

"Woah~! I've never heard Arthur play…! I've heard rumours that he was good, but who'd have thought he'd be _this_ good…?" Feliciano whispered, with a mutter of agreement from Ludwig next to him.

"Wow. Just _wow_." Alfred said, forgetting about the fact that he was meant to be keeping quiet. He suddenly realised that he'd spoken aloud, and clasped a hand over his mouth like it'd reverse the noise, preying to any god that would listen that Arthur hadn't heard him.

The gods were obviously busy doing something important, as the melody was interrupted by the frustrated slamming of hands on keys, as Arthur stood, slowly turning to face the door, yanking it open and glaring at the guilty trio.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing, Feliciano?" The little blonde spat - hell, who'd have thought something so small, could be so… venomous?

The poor little Italian was quite literally shaking at this point - you could tell he was genuinely terrified of what the hot headed blonde might do to him.

Ludwig gritted his teeth, obviously very annoyed at the way Arthur was treating his friend, "Hey, leave Feliciano out of this! There are no _rules _about us not allowed to come in this music room, for all you know, we might have been getting a musical theory book," Ludwig issued over to a nearby bookcase, with supporting nods from Feliciano.

The English boy turned away from Feliciano - who jumped safely behind Ludwig's back - and craned his neck up, directing his emerald, fiery glare at the German this time, "Yeah, I'll give you that, perhaps you _were_ collecting a book, that's none of my business. But I _know_ you lot - every single one of you is the same as the next, and I know that the only _real_ reason you came here was to eavesdrop on me, so you can report back to your little gang of buddies and laugh about how stupid my playing is. Well, maybe before you go and do that you should go and _listen_ to how terrible your brass band is. An elephant could outdo you lot!"

Sneering, Ludwig ran a hand through his hair, as if trying to regain some non-existent patience, "Don't be so full of yourself! The world doesn't revolve around you and your problems. Just because you're convinced everyone hates you, it doesn't mean that _everything _we do is with a harsh intent towards you!"

Arthur stood there a second, a little stunned and not sure how to respond. Luckily Alfred (accidentally) protected his pride.

"But… We _were_ eavesdropping, weren't we?" The accusation wasn't said in a harsh way; Alfred was simply just being truthful. Feeling terribly guilty, the American turned to the Brit, "I'm sorry - I didn't know you were so…" he struggled for a diplomatic way to describe the boy, "concerned about being alone to practice."

Running his hand down from his hair to his chin, Ludwig grumbled, "You _idiot_, you're as bad as Feliciano! _You don't tell people that part, numbskull!" _

Ignoring Ludwig completely, the American turned to the Brit, feeling terribly guilty, "I'm sorry - I didn't know you were so…" he struggled for a diplomatic way to describe the boy, "concerned about being alone to practice."

Arthur simply raised one of his very large eyebrows, "And you are?"

"Alfred Jones reporting for duty, roomie!" Alfred said enthusiastically, finishing with a mock salute.

Narrowing his eyes to dragon-like slits, Arthur turned, striding to a nearby bookshelf, absently flicking through some sheet music, "Well, Alfred Jones," The way he said the name sounded annoyingly mocking,. "Two things to remember. One, I don't _have_ roommates, and I never will, so don't get used to that position, I'll have it changed by tonight. And two, I don't need the help of an idiot American to get me through an argument. Go and fight your own battles."

And with that, he swept up the sheet music he needed, flipped out a pair of reading glasses from the position on his jumper, straightening them on his little nose, and was stalking out of the room.

"And _that's _Arthur Kirkland." Feliciano whispered, breaking the silence Arthur had been so kind as to leave them with.

The rest of the day with Feliciano and Ludwig passed in a relatively normal way for such an abnormal school. They began the grand tour of the school by showing Alfred all of the classrooms he'd have to attend at some point. They also showed him around the dorms, introducing him to various students of all years that they passed. Alfred couldn't remember any of their names, but recognized them when passing in the corridors. Some had some very, _very_ obscure European names, and Alfred dreaded trying to remember each of the little accents and funny symbols on letters.

Feliciano had then decided it'd be a perfect time to show Alfred all the best hide-and-seek spots around the castle, and came up with quite a few impressive spots behind tapestries and suits of amour, though where Alfred would use the information was beyond him – what twelve year old played hide and seek? Evidently Feliciano did.

After being dragged around even more destinations that Alfred couldn't even remember the names of, let alone the locations, Feliciano and Ludwig _finally_ decided it was time for a break, so they headed to the canteen for dinner. But the drills didn't stop there – while Alfred was eating, Feliciano didn't seem able to shut up about his love for pasta, and Ludwig was spamming the American's ears with the history of the area, informing him about how the castle had been built to keep away the Normans… or something.

Finally, finally, _finally_ after being given a timetable, study timetable, various books for classes that were compulsory, multiple musical theory and composing guide books, and even more guides about the school and it's history ("It makes brilliant reading material" Ludwig had assured) Alfred was _finally_ set free. So, with arms full of books that he'd likely never read, Alfred shuffled his way to where he seemed to remember his dorm lay.

The American had shuffled his way through corridor after corridor, careful not to drop a single sheet of paper. He began to recognize his surroundings, realizing just where he was. If his memory was correct, he was only a minute or two away from the dorms! Oh thank _god_, now, providing Arthur would actually let him through the door, he'd be able to flop on one of the beds that had his name on, and sleep soundly until the morning, without any more problems…

Alfred was practically falling asleep thinking about it! Just another reason to get there sooner, the American thought optimistically, dragging his feet through the corridors.

"Alfred-san?" Came a voice that Alfred recognized, but didn't know who it belonged to.

Turning around, Alfred came face to face with the small Japanese kid he'd met before with Ludwig and Feliciano. Racking his memory for a name, the only thing Alfred's challenged mind could muster up was 'Toyota', was that really his name…?

The Japanese kid must've seen the very blank look in reply the American gave, so just smiled, "Ah, I'm sorry, you must not remember me. I am Kiku Honda, Feliciano-san and Ludwig-san introduced us earlier." He introduced himself formally with a bow.

Honda! That was it, Alfred nodded to himself; he'd been close! Suddenly remember that it was formal in Japan to bow in return, Alfred, doing his best to get on Kiku's good side, bowed his head in reply, a grin spreading across his cheeks.

Though he was able to remember about Japanese culture, he didn't seem able to remember about the very large pile of books he was carrying. And, naturally because of gravity, as Alfred showed his respect, the books clattered down from his arms,

"Oh shit," Alfred muttered, "Sorry Kiku," he apologized as the Japanese boy joined him on the floor, assisting in the job of picking up all the books.

"It is no problem, Alfred-san, I appreciate that you were matching my culture, even at your own losses," the odd boy motioned at the fallen books that had yet to be picked up, "I take it Ludwig-san gave you all of these?" there was a little, almost amused, knowing smile on his pale face.

"Yeah… He's nice and everything… a bit scary, like, but his intentions are good… right? Even if he does think that the world revolves around knowledge and books," Alfred trailed off into thought, finally straightening up when all the books had been split between himself and Kiku.

"That is Ludwig," Kiku smiled fondly, "Feliciano and Ludwig are also my best friends, though I have been keeping my distance recently as…" The boy lowered his voice, looking around in case anyone heard could hear him, "… there is a notable amount of… 'Sexual tension' between the two."

"I knew it! So what, are they dating?" Alfred whooped as he finally got to one of the many unanswered questions of the day.

"Please, Alfred-san! Keep your voice down, it is improper to gossip!" Kiku panicked, waving his hands about, "But… no, they are not dating… I have spoken to Ludwig-san about it, and it seems that he wishes they _were_ dating – Feliciano-san is clueless as always." He shook his head fondly, "Ludwig-san has had a bit of a crush on Feliciano-san for a while now, and as I am… quiet and somewhat trustworthy, Ludwig-san came to me for a little… advice."

"Woah! I knew there was something more than them just being friends!" Alfred was pleased with himself for finally working it out, "Anyways, could we walk and talk?"

"Ah!" Kiku realized they'd been standing in the same spot idly for over five minutes now, and to anyone that passed they probably looked like right idiots, standing in the middle of a random corridor with a pile of books in each of their arms.

"Yes, I will show you the way to the dorm, then?" Kiku smiled, leading the way while Alfred followed, grinning the whole way.

"So tell me, Alfred-san…" Kiku asked just as they were entering the large doors that had the words 'COMMON ROOM #4' carved in the wooden frame of the door, "How do you like this school?"

Thinking carefully before he answered (he'd been in trouble for talking spontaneously in situations like this before) Alfred sighed, "I have no idea, really! It's pretty… mental. But not like a bad, hospital mental, kinda like…" He racked his brains for a suitable example, "internet crazy. You can find _anything_, and it's usually funny!"

Nodding, Kiku seemed to agree, "That is exactly what I thought when first arriving here. Though that is a rather… original comparison, I never thought of it that way before, but you are indeed correct." Kiku then came to a halt in front of a door that could only be one place, "Anyway, we are here. I hope you have a good night, Alfred-san." With a final bow, and placing down the books he was carrying on a neat pile on the floor, Kiku exited swiftly, muttering something about checking up on Ludwig.

So, there Alfred was, staring at the strangely ominous door to his new bedroom. Suddenly worried that Arthur might kick him out upon laying eyes at him, Alfred wasn't all that sure how to proceed. Should he knock? Would that be too formal? Would Arthur even be _there_?

Deciding that knocking would be the best answer, Alfred rapped strongly on the wood with his free hand. It felt _weird_ knocking on your own door. When there was no answer, the clueless American could only assume that was a cue to either come in or go away. He chose the first option!

After fussing a little as not to drop the books again, Alfred let himself through the door (to his surprise it was open) and walked into the room that would be his new hide-away. You could tell Arthur was used to living on his own.

Two single beds had been pushed together in the centre of the room, creating on large double bed. Arthur had covered it with cushions and duvets, teddies and hot water bottles – a bed fit for a king. Alfred smiled a little when his blue eyes met a glass, beady eye of a little unicorn. How cute, the teenager thought to himself. While the bed took up most, nearly all of the room in the medium-sized room, the rest of the space was full to the brim with bookshelves. There was hardly any visible wall, as each side of the room had at least two of the wooden monstrosities covering it! Much like the bookshelves down in the music rooms below, they were crammed to the brim with musical-related books. Apart from one bookshelf, Alfred noticed, that was full of Shakespeare and classics.

There were two little doors side by side leading out of the very crammed bedroom. Setting his stack of books down on a little table, Alfred peeked through the first of the two doors, and found a very neat and tidy, inviting bathroom, all glossy and white. It even had a bath, the American smiled with relief, and a little fish tank! The second of the two en-suit rooms turned out to be a little kitchen and dining room. Well, by 'dining room' it was more of a table in the very centre of the 'kitchen', which was in fact a fridge, a microwave, five cupboards, a cooker and a sink, all looking a little random like they'd been scavenged from many different furniture collections. The cupboards were mainly filled with snack-y things, all of them looking very British and distasteful, though Alfred recognised a little Hershey's bar lying on top of the table. Arthur seemed to have a tooth for American chocolate!

Chuckling, Alfred let himself back through to the bedroom, rolling up his sleeves. His many bags had been thrown into a corner, most likely curtsy of Arthur. Deciding he was too tired to route around for his pyjamas, Alfred dragged one of the single beds over, rearranging quilts and duvets, so finally there were two beds – Arthur's to the very left of the room, looking every glorious in all it's showers of cushions, and then the far right lay Alfred's very plain, very normal looking bed that came only with a single scavenged pillow, and very blanket-less. The American valued his life too much to try and steal one of Arthur's covers – after what he'd seen of the Brit's very short temper in the music room Alfred wasn't all that sure how he might react to a borrowed blanket.

So, curling up at the early hours of 8:30pm, much earlier than Alfred was used to sleeping, the poor American tried to snuggle up the best he could, kicking off his shoes and trying to keep his limbs warm. His first day at Goverek castle had been a very eventful one, and that was without the hectic routine of school to hinder him. How chaotic would tomorrow be…?

**A/N**

**So the second chapter :D thank you if you Favorited/watched :) It's much appreciated!  
I hope you liked this chapter :) If you did, then please review! :D Also, seeing as this school is set in England, I'm using the English school system:  
6th Grade - Year 7 (11-12 year olds)  
7th Grade - Year 8 (12-13 year olds)  
8th Grade - Year 9 (13-14 year olds)  
Freshman - Year 10 (14-15 year olds)  
Sophomore - Year 11 (15-16 year olds) :) Then there's collage XD  
Oh! and I don't want to sound patronizing when I say stuff like this XD I just want to avoid confusion :)  
Thanks again, everyone! 3**


	3. That odd teacher

**Chapter Three – That odd teacher**

"Wake _up_ you big idiot!"

Alfred found himself being shaken awake, woken up by an angry little British accent yapping at him. Groaning and rolling over to try and escape from the annoying little nags, Alfred attempted to fall back to sleep, only to be shaken even more violently.

"Get _up!_ You're going to be late for God's sake!" The voice insisted. Suddenly there was a pause in the shakes, and Alfred was dropped carelessly back on the pillow, "Fine! I give up!" Footsteps… And the voice was gone! Alfred smiled to himself, curling up once more… Finally he was just about to go to sleep when…

"Take _this_, wanker!" The voice had returned! Alfred groaned, about the tell it to go away, when something cold and wet beat him to it. Spluttering to life and trying to escape from the freezing cold water that had been thrown on top of him, Alfred fell pathetically off the bed, crawling on the floor in attempt to escape the cold.

"_What the hell was that for!"_ Alfred jumped up, pointing an accusing finger at Arthur who was very innocently holding a little bucket in his hands.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." The Brit turned his back, pouting. Alfred noticed that the boy was dressed in his full uniform, looking about ready to go out of the door.

"Hey, what time is it?" The American asked, searching frantically for a clock, forgetting completely about the bucket of freezing water Arthur had tipped on his head.

"Quarter to nine. Registration begins at nine o'clock, by the way. The last time someone was late they were chased around the grounds wearing only their underwear by the PE teachers," Arthur warned, a sickly-sweet amused smile painted on his smug face, "Apparently the head is getting a little more… imaginative with his punishments as of late. I'll see you in our form room, its room three in the technology department. See you later." And with that, the annoyingly amused Brit left the room, swinging his back across his shoulder.

Swearing loudly, Alfred jumped into the bathroom. Glancing at the shower he decided it would be too much of a risk to dive in it quickly. So, settling for splashing his face in _more_ water, only warm this time, the American escaped the clean bathroom, pulling out his neatly folded uniform from the depths of one of his suitcases, throwing it on. He quickly ran into the makeshift kitchen and throwing something into his bag that he could hopefully eat in form for some sort of breakfast, noticing at the last minute with a grimace he'd chosen a packet of ginger biscuits out of everything. Without a second to spare, Alfred decided that he'd have to make do with the terribly odd and wrong-tasting biscuits, and with a final glance around the room he hastily pulled his duvet as straight as he could (… was he going crazy? He seemed to remember falling asleep without that last night…) and was out of the door with five minute to find the technology department and the third room in it.

After mindlessly wondering around for a few very precious minutes, running through corridor to corridor, Alfred decided that he was just going to get himself even more lost. He needed to find someone for directions and quickly – but there was no one around! Searching frantically, the American ran around like a headless chicken begging for _anyone_ to show their face.

Finally, finally, _finally_ Alfred came across a kind looking teacher, "Miss! Please could you tell me where the technology department is?"

"First right, and then your next left and you'll be right on track. Are you that new American kid? Alfred Jones?" She asked, grinning from behind a pile of paperwork.

"Alfred F. Jones, Miss!" He corrected pedantically, before turning on his heels and darting down the hallway, "But I gotta run! Thank you!" He waved as he ran, practically skidding around the sharp corners as he came to the turns.

Checking his watch Alfred felt a shudder of fear run through his veins – it was five past nine, and he'd finally reached the technology department. This was _not_ going well.

Alfred waked as quickly as he could and reading the signs as he passed them – class one... class two…

"Finally! Class three!" Alfred cried in triumph, flinging the door open, preparing to be yelled at by their form room teacher. When the yell didn't come, Alfred inched an eye open taking a look around the rather spacious room, to find that only a few of the desks were occupied.

"You're kidding me! I was so late everyone _left_…?" Alfred frantically panicked, trying to remember what he had lesson one, until he scanned the few people in the tiny classroom and found Kiku, Feliciano, Ludwig and a very, _very_ amused-looking Arthur in the back of the class.

"My, my, Alfred-san! You're very eager, not many students get to form early – most of them are still showering at this point." Kiku smiled, welcoming the American, standing up in welcome.

"W-what? Early? What're you talking about? Reg starts at nine doesn't it? I'm five minutes late! Please, please, _please_ say the PE department isn't going to make me run around naked!" Alfred begged Kiku, tears forming in his sky blue eyes.

"Alfred-san, I'm not sure what you're talking about… Perhaps you haven't quite woken up from a strange dream…" Kiku stiffened awkwardly, suddenly very weary of the nonsense erupting from the American's mouth.

Arthur couldn't hold in his mischievous giggles any longer, "You idiot! I was winding you up! If the schools methods of punishment were as drastic and barbaric as something like _that_ then I doubt our school would even be _open_! You really are gullible! And school starts at quarter past nine, stupid. If you'd read your brochure you'd have realised that."

Alfred's jaw dropped as if someone had just unscrewed a hinge holding the bones together, "You're _kidding_ me! No, no, no, no, you can't have been winding me up! You – you…!" the American struggled to find words he was so stunned.

"Think of it as a little test. I was merely seeing how gullible you are, and that also proves that you didn't even open one of the many books Ludwig very kindly gave you last night." Arthur had a smug little grin on his face, obviously very pleased with getting Alfred into trouble from the German.

"You didn't read them? I thought you agreed that the history of the school was very interesting…" Ludwig muttered slightly, obviously trying not to blush at the fact that he'd obviously been boring Alfred to death with his lectures about castle-building.

"Nononono! It's not that at all! It's just last night I was _really_ tired, and I went to sleep the minute I got in!" Alfred struggled – although everything he said _was_ true, he couldn't shake off the guilty feeling that he never did plan on reading the mountain of books.

Nodding, but still blushing slightly, Ludwig smiled, "Okay, but really, don't feel forced to read the stuff… My brother never refrains from telling me that I'm a boring history geek…" He joked as lightly as he could, but knew that he bored most people, even Feliciano.

"Anyway, Alfred-san, here is your map." Kiku broke the awkward silence and handed over a little brochure, with a simple diagram of the large school and class numbers on each of the boxes that represented classrooms. Alfred counted mentally that this was the fifth map he'd been given so far, one off his mother, one off the head, two off some prefects, and now this. It'd probably join the growing pile in his jean pockets that lay on the floor in his new bedroom, but the American appreciated the gesture.

"Thanks Kiku!" Alfred grinned enthusiastically, "Hey, so do we wear uniform like _every day _here? You never get to wear your own clothes?"  
"Nope~" Feliciano joined the conversation, "Only on weekends and holidays~! Of course we're allowed to change into our own clothes once school has ended, but other than that we have to stay in them~ I'm just glad this colour suits me!"  
Alfred had to admit all four of the boys gathered in the class did suit their uniforms quite well. The American hadn't really stopped to pause and think what school would be like without his beloved bomber jacket and no uniform rules, and although it was a small thing, it felt pretty big. The uniforms in question were rather… different. The school's board seemed to have decided that they wanted to torture their students further, and therefore the dominant colour for the school uniform was _purple_. White shirts, navy blue ties, a purple blazer with the school's emblem graffiti-ing the chest pocket of it, and a sweater either beige or purple again could be worn if so desired. Alfred sighed, along with the navy blue trousers; it all seemed a little random and last-minute-designed, and none of the colours really worked together. It suited some people just fine, but people like Alfred? He much preferred his bomber jacket.

"Your uniform suits you too, Alfred!" Feliciano complemented him the best he could, though Alfred knew very well that there was no way his scruffy, half undone shirt, scruffy blazer and undone tie would ever look appealing in the eyes of neat little Feliciano, who had his tie practically strangling him, shirt, blazer and sweat-shirt all neatly ironed and nothing sticking out at an off angle. In fact all of the boys in the class so far – Kiku, Ludwig and Arthur, all had matching, neat and crisp uniforms.

All of them _had_ to be gay…

_God damn it, Alfred! _The American cursed himself, _don't judge others if you don't want to be judged!_  
_But still gay._

Before any more thoughts could be thought or sentences said, the four, had they wished to bring up a conversation topic, they'd have been curtly cut off by the ringing of the school bell, signalling the official beginning of the day. Very slowly, twelve and thirteen-year-old boys made it through the dozen in their friendship groups, everyone in that same, sickly purple, wearing the same, practically cloned uniform. Everyone made it to their seat, a light chatter emerging, and Alfred didn't need to hear the re-occurring mutters of his own name and 'American' to know he was the topic of most conversations.

It seemed that whichever class he'd been placed in was a very full class. There weren't that many boys making their way through the door, but by the time they'd all taken their seats, there was only a single seat left – and I'm sure everyone can guess where that seat was situated.

Of course it was right at the back, next to Arthur.

Luckily it seems fate wanted to put off the inevitable face-off between the two roommates for a little longer as the form tutor waltzed into the room. To Alfred's surprise it was the kind-looking teacher he'd run into before. She was quite young for a teacher, and it must be pretty disgusting to stuck in a boarding school day after day full of high school boys, all of whom were experiencing puberty, without a single other girl to console with.

"Welcome back, everyone, now settle down for god's sake! It's like a bloody zoo in here!" The woman walked over to her desk and threw down a pile of papers, the echoing of the vibration finally shutting the pre-teenage boys up. "Thank you. Now, I hope you all had a enjoyable Easter holiday, and I'm going to pretend I didn't hear half of the rumours I was told from across the bar." She winked at the boys, all of whom looked a little guilty and amused at the same time, obviously replaying certain events in their minds.

While all this was going on, Alfred was standing in the middle of the class like a right douche bag, or that's what he believed. He felt more than a little lost and confused, but was glad he'd been assigned with such a nice teacher.

"Ah! Alfred F. Jones!" The teacher perked up when she finally noticed the American standing in the middle of the room, remembering his introduction to her, "you're in my form group, I see? Good, good! Oh of course, you don't know who I am, do you?" The woman smiled, "I'm Miss Héderváry, but most people call me Miss H, Miss or plain old Lizzy." Her grin resembled that of a teenage boy's. She'd obviously been teaching here too long… "Now come stand up here, I won't bite. We'll do this the old fashioned way!"  
Obediently, Alfred ducked his head trying not to blush at the obvious attention. Usually the American would've lapped the attention up like a puppy drinking out of someone's cupped hand, but this time it felt like the wrong kind of attention – like he'd been captured by a native tribe, and they were discussing in whispers what to do with him. He even felt like an outsider to Feliciano, Ludwig and Kiku. Making very sure not to let his eyes move from his trainers, he stood at the front of the class like a seven-year-old, and let Miss Héderváry sling an arm round him and introduced the class to their new member.

"This, everyone, is Alfred F. Jones – and he's just moved here from America! Now, I know a load of you here are foreign, me included, and it's never fun moving to a new country. So if I hear any of you are being bastards to this poor kid then I will personally make sure that you'll be hanging upside-down the doorway of the Head's office, with only your underpants!" She winked at the class, sounding all too happy with her new method of punishment that'd been scribbled in the rulebooks in biro pen, "So Alfred, there's only one place for you to sit, and that's next to Eyebrows at the back there~! Enjoy yourself!" And with a rough pat, which was more like a shove on the back, Alfred was stumbling towards the only spare seat next to an annoyed looking Arthur.

"Guys, guys! Before you go back to your endless chattering, there's some stuff I have to tell you, so listen up, 'kay?" Miss Héderváry smiled empathically as the boys let out a groan in unison, "I know, I know, but I'll be kicked out if I don't tell you, for god's sake!" and then turned to the whiteboard and wrote in very large, marker-pen letters '1. RULE RECAP – No running in the corridors, no talking back to your superiors and for god's sake – remember to shower. 2. No bullying or I'll bully you. Full stop. 3. **Form Teachers** **≠ enemies** (she wrote this sentence larger than the rest, and underlined it boldly) we're here to help you for god's sake!'

"That last point, people," She said, swivelling away from the board once her little list had been completed, "I'm deadly serious. A lot of people think it's stupid to suck up to teachers, but asking a teacher for help doesn't mean you're sucking up to them. You're all without your parents, and there's a reason parents guide you. So, while you're in this school, all your teachers are your parents and your classmates your brothers. Unless you're dating them, 'cause that'd be creepy, right?" The smile plastered on her face was a little too creepy for Alfred's liking, "And remember, it's okay to be gay. Really, really, gay is good! My door is always open. Now go and talk about the shit you guys like to talk about."

And everyone did just that.

Well, everyone apart from Alfred and Arthur.

Poor old Alfred was trying to recover from what'd just happened. He'd had weird teachers in America, but he was pretty sure this wasn't your typical British teacher either. What type of teacher threatens her students like she's 'one of the gang', as someone her age might phrase it? Who swore at their pupils and hinted heavily that they should all be gay? Evidently Miss Héderváry did…

"She is a little odd, isn't she?" Arthur answered Alfred's thoughts with a bored gaze.

"Understatement. And why does she call you eyebrows?" Alfred narrowed his eyes confused, but as soon as Arthur raised a rather bushy eyebrow, the American understood instantly, "and you're okay with her calling you that?"  
"Hell no. I've told her multiple times that my name is 'Arthur'. She seems to be partially deaf though…" The Brit said almost to himself, reaching into his bag for some papers.

"Hm…" Alfred hummed in reply, watching the odd teacher from behind his glasses lens intently. She seemed to be flicking through some sort of book, a cute little smile on his face, "She's quite pretty, though."

Arthur sighed in relief, "Oh thank god you think so too! It's been ages since any boy in this place has passed by an attractive woman, and we're beginning to wonder if every female we see instantly becomes attractive just because they don't have male reproductive organs."  
"Dude, it's called a dick." Alfred cocked an eyebrow, grinning when Arthur made a face of disgust at the word.

"Stupid American…" Arthur muttered, narrowing his emerald eyes. There was an awkward silence between the two, before Arthur took a deep breath, "I'm sorry for this morning. I probably shouldn't have done such a childish joke, _or_ poured water on your head to wake you up. And yesterday… in the music room, I'm sorry for being so… melodramatic. You probably don't have the best image of me as a roommate at the minute. I just want you to know I'm not childish."

Alfred could sense Arthur was starting to babble slightly and grinned. By what he'd seen of the Brit so far, his pride was more important than his whole existence and that apology must've spent a hell of a lot of pride. "'S'fine, Eyebrows!" Alfred winked, lightening the conversation with the use of this new-found nickname.

"Shut it! My name is Arthur, _not_ eyebrows!" The Brit fumed just as Alfred had planned, "And don't go thinking now we're friends or some shit like that! Just because we're not enemies does _not_ make us friends! We're acquaintances – roommates, and it's staying like that!" The rambling continued, and Alfred just grinned and nodded, wondering how long Arthur would be able to keep up his cold-shoulder act. Alfred knew very well just how likable he was, and couldn't think of a single person that could hate him for more than a week. Yeah he was obnoxious and narcissistic twat, but a likable obnoxious and narcissistic twat.

The second bell for the day rudely interrupted Arthur's childish ramblings, and Alfred sent a prayer of thanks up to any God that was listening. The class rose in unison, everyone flooding out of the door to wherever their first lessons were situated.

"Alfred! Over here~!" Feliciano called, beckoning the American over to his side enthusiastically. Giving Arthur a smile of departure with the Brit quite pointedly ignored, Alfred made his way over to the juvenile little Italian who was waving like there was no tomorrow.

"Where are we headed now, guys?" Alfred grinned, absent-mindedly hi-fiving the budding Italian.

"It appears we all have English." Kiku informed. Alfred wasn't going to begin on asking how Kiku knew all of their timetables.

"This is a perfect time to explain the schooling system to you, Alfred." Ludwig coughed, beginning his explanation, "You see, unlike most large schools, seeing as this school is very small, the teachers have chosen to, rather than teach each year separately, group them all into two groups. There are two form groups in every year – class A and class B. We are in 8A, yeah? So the teachers group all the A-class year seven, eights and nines together, and then all the B-class seven, eights and nines, and the same with the year tens and elevens. So in total there are four classes, the numbers equalling around thirty to forty pupils per class. Make sense?"

Alfred processed the speech in his head before confirming he understood. What he _thought_ Ludwig meant was they'd basically be in the same class as the 'year sevens' and 'year nines' – Alfred still thought of them as 6th and 8th Graders. "Yeah, I think I get it!"

"Though I do have to warn you – we have Mr. Alden teaching us…" Ludwig grumbled, obviously not too pleased, at Alfred's very blank, question-mark look, Ludwig slapped his own face in a facepalm of frustration, "The _head teacher_, Alfred."

"Oh! That guy! The one that treats Feliciano like a 'special' five-year old?" Alfred said not-so-subtly.

"Yes. Him." Ludwig grumbled. No one seemed to be too fond of the head.

As the four made their way down the corridors, pupils of all years were also making their ways around the corridors rushing to get to their lessons. All of them gazed curiously at Alfred, and some even stopped to introduce themselves to the American. But, before long the boys had made it over to the English department, and were safely sitting in a row right at the back, Feliciano promising Alfred to reserve a seat for him this time so he wouldn't be stuck with Arthur who was giving him the cold-shoulder approach.

As the boys took their seats in the large room, boys of all ages entered with them - both young, puny pre-teen structures of year sevens, and the tall, bean-pole and pubic-hair mess of year nines entered, along with your bog-standard year eights, a combination of year seven and nine alike – taller than the teeny sevens, but not as hair and sweaty as the year nine.

Well, saying that it seemed that these year nine boys were hardly hairy and sweaty, to be fair to them. Alfred recognised quite a few from passing them in the hallway – after all it was quite a small school. A few stood out as very individual and different, while others just faded away into the mess of people, just being an average person.

Once the entire class had settled down, sitting next to Alfred was a kid who he'd never seen before. He looked like one of the fading-away types, and nothing stood out about him other than his wide, violet eyes. Alfred only realised that the kid had been sat next to him for a while, and the American had only noticed him when ducking into his back to grab a pen, almost head butting the boy's shins in the process. Upon looking up to see who he'd almost bashed and apologies, Alfred met those very violet eyes, and instantly found himself smiling.

"Hey! Sorry about that, I'm freakin' clumsy, right? Sorry I didn't notice you when you sat down!" The American suddenly felt very guilty, but the boy smiled.

"Its okay – it happens to a lot of people, so don't sweat"! He smiled, "I'm Matthew Williams, nice to meet you." He held out a hand in formal greeting.

"Alfred F. Jones," Alfred winked, "You're from Canada?"

"You must recognise my accent… No one here can tell the difference between American and Canadian accents…" The Canadian boy mused, trailing off into thought, "I'm in your form class; I didn't introduce myself this morning - I saw you were having a conversation with Arthur." The Canadian glanced over at said Brit who was having a heated discussion with a brown haired boy that looked suspiciously like Feliciano…

Before the American had chance to reply to the quiet boy, a final body entered the class – this one thin and tall – taller than anyone else who'd walked through the door. Upon his arrival, the entire class fell silent – even Arthur and his annoyed little rants. The Head had entered, of course, and was glaring at the now guilty looking boys cowering in their seats. He did _not_ look happy, and even Alfred could tell that this probably wouldn't bring the best outcome ever.

"Quiet – no talking what-so-_ever. _If I hear even a whisper, I'll personally make sure to go to the government and request that we bring back caning as a punishment, and if they decline I may just listen the 'rebel' inside of me and take it upon myself to bend the rules a little." The man almost _growled_, "Open your Macbeth copies to page seventy two – Act four scene three. I need two people to read out the parts…" The man's eyes searched the room, a glint of mischief in them, "Shane you can be Malcolm, and Colin as Macduff. Off we go then."

And thus started Alfred's first English lesson in this new, scary school.

**A/N**

**Hello again :D Thank you for reading first of all, I really appreciate it :) Also, thank you if you've favourated/reviewed/followed – I bloody love you! XD  
Okay so some notes~ :D  
First, form is basically the British version of homeroom, a form tutor being the equivalent of a homeroom teacher. I don't want to sound patronising when I say stuff like this X'D it's just to avoid confusion :)**

**Second~ The head is an OC XD he's not some random fanmade character X'D  
And also, I plan on including as many characters as I can, but some characters I really have no idea about (especially fanmade ones like Mexico, Peru etc.) so if you have a favourite minor character, there's not a guarantee they'll appear XDD maybe if I was asked specifically to include one, I might do a bit of research and stuff XD  
Also – I don't usually update this quickly XD It's been a boring weekend, and I've had nothing better to do than write XD sorry ^^"  
Don't forget to review!  
Thank you very much :D **


	4. Whispered introductions

**Chapter Four – Whispered introductions**

The read-through of Macbeth had gone surprisingly well, apart from a few glares from the Head when a boy stumbled over his complicated lines, or got the rhythm a little off. But all-in-all, Alfred decided it was a successful scene.

"Now, I need to go and take care of a few things, so while I'm gone I want you to begin an essay on this scene. I need you to tell me what happened in your own words, and how Macduff reacts when finding out the news of his slaughtered family. I want this essay on my desk bright and early tomorrow morning. Failing that there _will_ be consequences, but be warned, I will be passing this class quite a bit on my travels, so if I hear even a noise from this room you're all in automatic detentions. Is that understood?"

The class all sheepishly nodded in reply to the Head's corporal-like instructions. With a curt turn, and a clearing of his throat, the Head _finally_ strode out of the ajar door, and everyone shared a silent gasp of relief.

"Bloody hell, he's too intense…" Arthur muttered from the front of the class, only to be glared at by a number of surrounding students.

"Shut up, you British eyesore!" A French accent hissed, "I am _not _staying in a detention because of you!"

"Look who's talking now! You're the one replying!" Arthur childishly spat back.

"Both of you shut the fuck up!" The mean-looking Italian sitting next to Arthur interjected.

There was silence for a few minutes, a few rustles of paper, and the class finally settled down, scribbling on their paper, all full to the brim of boring Shakespeare and his stories of war.

Deciding it would be safe to talk in a very, _very_ low whisper (it wasn't like no one else was doing it – the room was full of hissed conversations) Alfred decided to turn to Feliciano for a bit of guidance, though not on the work.

"So, can you show me who everyone is?" He muttered between writing words.

"Sure~!" Feliciano replied in an enthusiastic whisper, "The one next to Arthur is my big brother, Lovino~ he can be mean sometimes, but he's a nice guy deep down~ he's in year nine~"

"Next to him is Antonio Fernandez Carriedo… His relationship with Lovino is quite complex to say the least…" Ludwig had decided to join the conversation, "no one really knows where they stand – one minute they're dating, and the next Antonio is crying his eyes out to Gilbert about how he was brutally dumped by Lovino."

Alfred scanned the room for any indication of who Gilbert was, when he found none, Matthew helpfully pointed out the kid, "That's him – never wears his uniform right and somehow gets away with it. He's also in year nine with Antonio." The Canadian had pointed to a tall albino, slouched over his paper, tongue sticking out. Matthew was right – you could barely tell Gilbert was in uniform – covering his purple blazer he'd thrown on a red zip-up hoodie that matched the blood-red of his eyes. His shirt was undone, revealing a loose plain black t-shirt and a cross-necklace that looked scarily like the German Cross from World War One. He didn't look like the friendliest guy in the world…

"The French one who was cursing at Arthur is Francis," Matthew continued, pointing at a blonde boy who looked very, very gay. Though surprisingly handsome, Alfred had to admit. He had obviously spent a lot of time plucking his eyebrows and shaving his little stubble. Hell, maybe even straightening his hair, but it did make him look good. His shirt was undone so low you could see the beginnings of a muscular-looking chest, and all thoughts of a tie had been abandoned, "He's a year nine too… Watch out when he's around Gilbert and Antonio, it's never fun when you've got the three of them eyeing you up." Matthew warned.

"That there is Peter Kirkland – year seven." Kiku whispered in a low tone, the groups eyes flicking to the other side of the room where a young blonde boy was writing as fast as he could, as the two Asian boys next to him watched with amused expressions "With him are Kaoru Li and Im Yong Soo… They're quite… odd."

"Wait, Kirkland? Like related to Arthur?" Alfred blinked, obviously a little confused, "He has brothers?"

Ludwig shook his head, "Arthur's family is a little… complicated. Full of divorces and re-marries. I know he has five half-brothers in this school. Peter being one of them… The others are quite different…"

Ludwig then pointed at two red-headed gangling idiotic-looking, grinning twins, "Colin and Shane Kirkland, the Irish twins that are the soul mayhem of Year Nine. I'd watch out for them if I were you, they'll probably pull more than one prank on you. But it's easy to get them to shut up – you just have to make some comment about twincest and they'll be as statues." Ludwig grinned, obviously remembering a triumphant moment in his mind.

"There's the last of the Kirklands," Kiku whispered, pointing at one very rough looking, ginger one, and a kind, smaller, sandy haired one, "Alastair and Owain, both in year eight. Alastair's dad's from Scotland, while Owain's dad is from Wales. The Twin's dad was from Ireland, and while Arthur and Peter, the youngest, have different dads – both from England."

"That's hella complicated, man." Alfred muttered.

"Yeah, I wouldn't mention it to Arthur if I were you – he always gets all uptight and accuses you of calling his mum a slut or something." Matthew muttered, "He really doesn't like that."

"Hmm… I can imagine…" Alfred muttered, eyeing Arthur before returning to his early stages of the essay.

The five boys worked in silence along with the rest of the class for ten minutes or so, though most of the time Alfred was chewing on his pen lid, wondering what to write. Just as he posed his hand ready to write the words that were _finally_ forming in his head, the bell rang and the Head walked back in, right on time.

"Okay, okay, class dismissed. Remember – five hundred words tomorrow, on my desk or there'll be consequences. Now get to your lessons." He shooed the teenage boys out of the door, returning to his desk at the front as the class flocked out in a wave-like fashion.

Alfred's second lesson was music, and it seemed that most of the people from his English class also had that lesson (maybe that's why Kiku had no problem at all memorising other people's timetables – they were all the same!) the American entered the same time as the rest of his classmates, and flung himself on to a seat next to Matthew by a large, complicated-looking keyboard. The class must've been in one of the other music rooms Ludwig had mentioned the other day, as it was themed around a selection of blues, ranging from soft sky blues to bold, rich royal blues. On the whole it was quite a relaxing colour scheme, Alfred thought.

"Welcome, everyone…" The teacher stood up from his piano stool, obviously a little miffed that we wasn't able to continue writing on a complicated selection of manuscript paper all strewn out on the top of a grand piano, "I'll just do the register and we'll get started. Jordan… Simon… Oscar…" The long list of boys names were continually called out as the owner called out in answer.

It turned out that the teacher, Mr Roderich Edelstein had quite a lot planned out for the boys in only an hour's worth of lesson. The class were going to be split up into random groups of five each, and by the end of the lesson, each group were to perform a simple group ensemble, (why not just call it a group performance? Alfred didn't get why Italian was the language of music…) from scratch. He was asking them to compose a five-piece performance in less than forty-five minutes! He might be the next Mozart, but that didn't make his students some sort of mini Beethoven either.

As it turned out, Alfred had been chucked in a group of boys he didn't know. There was a year seven, Aaron, a boy Alfred hadn't been introduced to, Gilbert and Antonio from year nine (Antonio was sending longing glances over to Feliciano's group who had Lovino and Francis in their member list too, and complaining to his albino friend how it wasn't fair that Francis got to spend time with _two_ cute Italians) and finally in the group was Owain, who was smiling at Alfred encouragingly.

"Hi, I heard you're my brother's roommate?" the blonde smiled, outstretching a hand, "Bore da, I'm Owain Kirkland."

"'Bore da'? What language is that, man?" Alfred blinked stupidly, distracted by the foreign greeting.

Owain blushed, slapping a hand over his mouth, "Ah! Sorry, I continuously forget I'm speaking Welsh… I don't even know I'm doing it! Sorry! I mean good morning!" He smiled weakly.

"Oh! Welsh! Like that little country next to England?" Alfred grinned, shaking the outstretched hand.

"Yup, that's the place!" Owain beamed at the mention of his home country, "Man, I miss it…"

Alfred nodded in empathic agreement, "I know the feeling all too well."

"I don't know about you pair, but I sure as hell don't want to be on the end of Roderich's pissed off attitude, so, as boring as it may be can we get the fuck on with this ensemble?" Gilbert sauntered over, Antonio at his side, the two completely ignoring the little year seven behind them.

So, that is exactly what the group did. Owain clambered behind an expensive looking harp, plucking a few of the strings and creating a soft sounding accompaniment. Antonio happily added in some contrasting tones on his electric guitar, Gilbert confidently strumming out a bass line on a menacing-looking electric bass that was plugged into a monster amp. That left Alfred to come up with a cute little tune to add on top of the texture of instruments with his beloved acoustic. Even Aaron played his part, harmonising Alfred's improvised melody on his clarinet. All in all, at the end of the forty-five minutes they'd been given, the five of them seemed pretty chuffed with their work.

Their group hadn't been the _best_ of course – Arthur, Colin, Shane, Kaoru and Ludwig. The weird combination of Arthur's piano, the twins' violins, Kaoru's flute and Ludwig's trumpet all seemed to fit together, and their performance stunned even Mr. Edelstein. Why did that Brit have to be good at _everything_ he did?

Class was dismissed once again, and morning break time swung around. Half an hour to chill before they started the two hours of class before lunch. Alfred's stomach was calling, so while Feliciano, Ludwig and Kiku ran off to one of the many fields to enjoy the rare sun, Alfred caught up with Matthew, and wondered in the direction of the canteen with the Canadian.

"So, are you enjoying your first day so far?" Matthew smiled, keeping a tight hold of the teddy bear Alfred had noticed he always kept with him.

"Well, it's a bit _weird_ like – I mean sharing classes with the year sevens and nines… Don't you get taught the same stuff three times then?" Alfred pointed out in a rare moment of logic.

Matthew shook his head, smiling, "No; they don't repeat any lessons, and often in subjects like maths, the teacher gives each year a different set of work. I mean there're less than one hundred and fifty kids here – it's a teeny school!"

The American nodded enthusiastically, "No kidding! I must've passed the same people, what, ten times so far? I remember my first year back in America, 6th grade – I kept on passing a new face every day! There must've been at least three thousand kids there! I guess it's kinda nice knowing everyone though, it makes it feel more… homely?"

"Yeah, I think that's what they were aiming for when they set this place up. They only let certain people in here, you're pretty lucky y'know?" Matthew turned, and grabbed Alfred's sleeve, dragging him through the canteen doors, "I'm _starving_ though! And I'm not kidding; they make _the_ best pancakes here."

Glad that his new friend agreed on the opinion of food, Alfred more than happily slipped into a small queue behind the Canadian in the canteen. The place it's self was pretty small, but looked an awful lot more well looked after than your average school canteen. It looked like it'd never seen a food fight, for God's sake! _That'll have to change in the next four years I'm here…_ Alfred thought mischievously to himself, and then realized when Matthew nudged him that he was being served.

After making a random order of some sort of cookie, the American threw himself and his bag down on a table, Matthew sitting opposite him, already tucking into his syrup-coated pancakes. Alfred nibbled on his cookie, and found, though it wasn't the _best_ cookie he'd ever eaten, his stomach had digested worse, so he continued to eat it.

"Good?" Matthew smiled, downing another pancake.

Alfred grimaced tilting his head from side to side, "Meh… could be better, but edible. Is all the food like this?"  
Swallowing and re-loading his fork, Matthew nodded, "Yeah – at first everyone's pretty much gagging, some people even go out to town and buy their own food at weekends. But most people get used to it after a year or so. Avoid the scones on your life. They're deadly. _Literally._ But let's not go there right now!" Matthew giggled nervously, "Yeah, the only things they _can_ make are pancakes and the occasional pie or two. You got off lucky with that cookie you know! It seems the only people that eat here and _enjoy_ the food are the Kirklands – hell with their attitude you'd think they thought this was a five star restaurant or something!" Matthew giggled to himself, "Look!"

The Canadian nodded over to a nearby table where the tall, ginger rough looking boy - Alfred seemed to remember his name being Alastair - was drinking a hot substance from a flask at an alarming rate; Alfred could only hope and assume it was tea. Opposite the Scottish boy was Owain, who was nibbling daintily on the corner of something that seemed to resemble a scone, but looked a little too… flat and raisin-y. Sharing the table with the two were the twins, who were poking at a mars bar, looking like they were planning on cutting it in half. But all of them indeed did have rather conceited expressions like the food didn't bother them at all – and as Matthew had said, like they were enjoying it!

"Everyone has a different theory on why they like it – most reckon it's because they're British…" Matthew nodded knowingly.

Before Alfred could reply, a big booming voice beat him to it, "Mattie! Who's your new friend?"

The pair turned around, and met the chocolate-colourer eyes of a tanned, very vast student that Alfred hadn't seen before. The teenager in front of them was just _big_ full stop. He looked just as muscle-y as he did overweight, and was very tall at the same time. He sort of disobeyed every rule out there – how can someone be fat _and_ covered in muscles? His hair was tied back in scruffy dreadlocks, and he'd adapted his uniform so it was simply a short sleeved shirt, and turned the legs of the trousers up, pinning them in place to look like makeshift shorts.

"Carlos! I didn't see you, sorry!" Matthew grinned, and then introduced the two, "Alfred, this is Carlos! He's my best friend, though it's a bit awkward, because he's in year eleven, so I don't get to share any classes with him. And Carlos, this is Alfred Jones, he's just moved here from America."

"America, hmm?" Carlos narrowed his eyes, his friendly smile from before disappearing instantly, "Well, whatever, nice too meet you, I s'pose."

And with that, he simply left.

"Did I do something?" Alfred wondered aloud to Matthew, who had an awkward, apologetic smile on his face.

"No, no! You didn't do anything, it's just Carlos isn't too… fond of Americans…" Matthew tried to phrase the sentence diplomatically.

Alfred raised an eyebrow, grinning, "No kidding! But hey, you can't be liked by everyone, right?" That was rich, coming from an American who previously stated that he didn't know anyone who could hate him after a week of knowing him…

* * *

The last four lessons passed quietly – nothing out of the ordinary happened. In maths they were taught the quadratic formula, and told to know it off by heart for next lesson. Science, Gilbert almost blew the whole class up by throwing a substantial lump of potassium in water, creating a pretty purple firework show that Professor Wang, the science teacher, most defiantly didn't appreciate. Lunch came and went in the blink of an eye, where Alfred, Ludwig, Kiku, Matthew, Feliciano and for some reason Owain decided to sit on their field together, sharing sandwiches and turning their lunchtime into a large picnic. Drama and Art were equally simple, apart from Francis flirting with their drama teacher, and Alastair announcing he'd paint the whole school blue and white in art.

All in all, Alfred had quite enjoyed his first day at Goverek boarding school!  
More than that even – the next four days passed in a flash – Alfred could barely remember sleeping in between the days. Everything was still so new and big! There wasn't a day when something new didn't happen – either Lovino was swearing at Antonio and Francis, or Arthur was throwing things at him in the dorm room, or Carlos was muttering threats of hatred when passing him in the corridors. Despite all this, Alfred was having a great time, he decided.

Not only that, but he seemed to have kept up his friend-making habit. By last lesson on Friday, Alfred doubted there was anyone in the school that didn't know his name – student and teacher alike. Most people had warmed up to him like a moth to a light, while others, like Francis, Arthur and Carlos, found him an obnoxious American idiot. But you can't please them all! Owain especially had become quite close with Alfred at the end of the week, and the little Welsh boy and the American were getting along like they'd known each other for years. Though Alfred wasn't too sure who he'd class his best friend to be – everyone he was friends with seemed to have their _own_ best friends. Owain was always around Alastair and Toris; a year eight Lithuanian who didn't share any classes with Alfred – Feliciano had Ludwig, Kiku and Lovino, and Matthew had Carlos, and oddly enough Alfred found that he was also pretty friendly with Gilbert and Francis – or rather Gilbert and Francis were rather friendly with the poor Canadian.

Alfred had no choice – he'd have to find a best friend who could call him a best friend back! And the American, being the awesome hero that he was had just the person in mind. Sadly, this person was very proud, and didn't seem to want to make friends with anyone. Arthur Kirkland, of course.

Operation – convince-Arthur-that-Americans-can-be-friends-with-British-people: START.

**A/N**

**So we're finally moving the storyline along! :D I know everyone knows what Francis and the others look like, and how they wear their uniforms (I'm writing this how most people draw them in Gakuen Hetalia fanart XD) but I thought, seeing as this is kinda from Alfred's view, and he's never seen these odd Europeans before, they deserve a description XD  
I hope you don't mind too much about Wales, Scotland, Northern Ireland and Southern Ireland either ^^" I know they're /sort of/ OCs, I mean everyone has a different view on them, no? But I do bloody love them, and I plan for them to have a pretty major role in this (not _main_, but a main side character if that makes sense…? Well, Wales might be a main chara XD)  
Oh! And just to clear it up (also in age order~)  
Scotland – Alastair Kirkland (Weird spelling, I know XD He had to repeat a year of school, and he should be in the same year as the twins XD he's a rebel!)  
N. Ireland – Colin – Older and more sensible of the twins :)**

**S. Ireland – Shane – The mischievous one! :D**

**Wales – Owain – the caring one XD he worries too much XD  
So yes~ if they get too annoying just tell me and I'll try and ease up on them XD  
So yes! Thank you very much if you reviewed, favourited or followed ^^ love you lots! (especially those who took time to review – you're bloody amazing ^^)**

**Next chapter… Tomorrow? I don't know X'D depends how I feel~  
I hope you enjoyed reading~! Thank you very much~**


	5. The very first friend

**Chapter Five – The very first friend**

In the past five days, Alfred had watched Arthur quite pointedly. On the first day after school, the Brit had got quite annoyed at the fact that Alfred had moved around his personal belongings without his permission, but quickly blew it off and helped the American unpack. The second day, Arthur was completely absorbed in homework, and didn't even have time to greet the American when he skipped through the door after having a game of soccer with Feliciano and the others. The third, Arthur had disappeared off to the music room, only to return when Alfred was just climbing into bed. The American noted that the smaller blonde looked an awful lot more relaxed than usual, and even smiled at Alfred, and wished him a good night before tip-toeing to the kitchen to do even more homework. The forth day, Arthur had returned to his normal, annoyed self and from the minute Alfred had entered the dorm room, he'd been sworn at, the victim of complaints and multiple items had been thrown at him by the Brit, one of which being a unicorn plush.

Friday after school was a little different.

Alfred pulled the door open, letting himself into the room. He threw his bag onto his bed, falling on top of it only seconds later. He'd completed a week of school! And he hadn't caught a cold, died, or turned pink and covered in yellow spots! (That had happened in many a nightmare Alfred had experienced back in America at the news of his new home.) It had been a success of sorts, and he'd even decided to head out into the small town of Padstow with Owain and Matthew at the weekend.

But there was one thing gnawing at his mind – and it had just entered the dorm room.

Arthur glanced up when he saw Alfred had beaten him to the room, and muttered a quite hello, before disappearing off into the kitchen. But Alfred wasn't letting him get away _that _easily. Oh no, no, no. Alfred was going to figure out more about this mysterious boy.

"Hey, Arthur, come here will ya?" Alfred leaned back on the bed, calling through to the Brit in the kitchen.

A second later the door opened, and Arthur poked his head out, "What is it, git? I'm busy doing homework, so if you could hurry up it'd be much appreciated." He glared curtly.

"Woah, woah, slow down, little man!" Alfred grinned, but then turned his expression serious, "I share all the same classes as you, and yes, we get our fair share of homework, but not so much you have to be slaving away hour after hour on it! You're obviously doing a lot more than homework in there – so what're you up to, eh?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow, "'Eh'? Really? You sound like Matthew."

"Don't avoid my question!"

"I told you – I do homework. I just do it an awful lot better than you, so I take my time on it." Arthur insisted, not giving Alfred any hints with his expression.

"So all the time you're in that kitchen you're doing homework?" Alfred asked.

"Yes, among other things." Arthur answered, then noticed Alfred's questioning look and expanded, "Composing, reading – eating. After all, is that not what a kitchen was intended for?"  
"Why don't you hang out with anyone?" The stubborn boy continued, "What about your friends?"

The Briton stiffened at that, and Alfred finally knew he was getting somewhere. Well, apart from the small issue that the Brit just _wouldn't answer_. Arthur stood there, glaring at Alfred, green daggers piercing at Alfred's own sky blue eyes, "You insensitive bastard." Arthur whispered darkly.

"I don't see how I'm being insensitive! I'm worried about you, for God's sake! I've never seen you _smile!_ Something must be wrong, and I want to help! So why don't you tell me – where are your friends Arthur?" Alfred insisted, taking a step toward the Brit.

"Get _away_ from me! You must be as blind as you are socially unaware, and I hope you go and choke on a hamburger!" Arthur cried, slamming the door to the kitchen. A few seconds later, Alfred heard the sound of a chair being dragged across the floor. He checked the door handle, and nothing happened when he pulled it down. He must have blocked it with the chair and sat on it to keep it in place.

But Alfred still didn't quite see what he'd done wrong. Shrugging it off, he grabbed his iPod and blasted some Green Day into his ears. Deciding it was about time for him to unpack, the American pulled the suitcase toward him, and unzipped the sides, letting him see the content of the case he'd packed over a week ago.

Pulling out random t-shirts and jeans and chucking them in the approximate direction of the wardrobe, Alfred began to demolish the large pile of crap that lay in his suitcase. The fact that he hadn't even given them a second thought while he'd been in the school kind of proved that it was all meaningless junk that he didn't really need. Though there were things in the case with some sentimental value.

After all the clothes had been taken out (and transferred to a little mountain of clothes all heaped together outside the wardrobe) Alfred found himself digging through the various objects he'd brought. There were a few comic books – only his very favourites, he wouldn't have had room for them all after all.

As a young boy he'd always loved his comics, and remembered how every Saturday, he and his dad would go to the comic book store, and his dad would buy him the latest issue of either Batman or Superman, sometimes even both if he was lucky. They'd then always go to the ice cream parlour opposite, and order two double chocolate cones, and eat them on the way home. Alfred smiled fondly at the memory, flicking through the dog-eared pages of the comic. It'd continued like that for years, that weekly routine. Until his dad had been promoted in work, and he no longer had time on a Saturday to do something as petty as going for comics and ice cream with his son. Alfred had convinced his mum to take him once or twice, but it never was quite the _same_. '_After all,'_ his dad had said '_you're a big boy now, son – you're getting a little to old for silly comic books, don't you think?'_

These flimsy pieces of paper were the only memory of the way his father _used_ to be. It was silly that Alfred still wished for his dad to be the old man he knew – the one that always had time for his son, and nothing was too much. Alfred still believed the man was there, just overpowered and weighed down by a lot of paperwork, overtime, debt and stress.

Quickly tossing the comics aside so he wouldn't get too emotional, Alfred made quick work of the next few objects – they were just a load of books that his mum had thrown into the case in the very slim chance Alfred might get so board he'd resort to books to revive his boredom. Yeah right. Maybe Arthur would like them as a little gift? They looked like the type of books he'd like – boring ones.

There were a few of his favourite DVDs in the mix – All of the batman and Spiderman movies, a few Doctor Who DVDs of episodes that Alfred had particularly enjoyed, the last Harry Potter Movie, and even a Twilight disk (how had _that_ got in there…!) After quickly removing Twilight and introducing it to its new home – the waste paper bin – Alfred grabbed the remaining books and DVDs, taking them over to the very slim space Arthur had loaned him on the bookshelf.

Now, the only items that remained in the suitcase were gifts off people. The camera his sister had given him last year, multiple guitar picks and chord books from one of his many cousins, sweets off his mother for the journey, a tie off his father for 'special occasions' and some very off rock cake from a random aunty of his. ]

The final thing in the case was something that made a grin spread across Alfred's face. Picking the teddy bear up gingerly and examining it for any holes, Alfred hugged his oldest friend close to him like he'd done so many times before. This was another of the sentimental items he kept, and one of the things most dear to him – his bomber jacket won first place. This little bear was his first and oldest friend, as sad as it sounded.

Upon looking at the bear, something finally clicked in Alfred's head. Standing up and walking toward the kitchen where Arthur was sulking, he rapped lightly on the door three times, "Arthur, I need to speak to you."

"Bugger off, wanker." Arthur said back.

"Please? I want to apologize."  
The Brit took a moment to answer; he was probably thinking his response over carefully. A second or two later, there was the sound of the creaking chair again, and the door opened a crack.

"Hurry up then, I have homework to do." Arthur pouted, dragging the chair over to the table and sitting down, sipping a cup of tea.

"Arthur, let's not have another conversation about this – we both know you don't have homework to do." Alfred raised an eyebrow, and then noticed that there was another chair opposite Arthur, "You got another chair?"

The Brit stiffened, "What're you talking about?"

"The first time I came in here there was only one chair."

"You must be imagining things. Now sit down, and hurry up and tell me what's going on." Arthur sipped his tea a little too fast, almost coughing it back up. Luckily he managed to control himself and turned it into a very slight clearing of the throat.

Grinning like an idiot, Alfred placed his bear on the table. Arthur raised an eyebrow, examining said bear, taking note of the matted fur, patched up rips and sewn-on limbs. It was obviously a very old, loved bear.

"Are you mocking me?" Arthur asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes. He knew that Alfred knew about his obsession with stuffed animals, and if this was a cruel way of getting him back for being a bit of a bastard, then Arthur didn't like it.

Alfred's eyes widened in shock at the accusation, "Oh! No, no, no! This is symbolism!" He grinned, pleased with himself, "Let me explain." Taking a deep breath and composing himself, the American began his explanation.

"Okay, so when I was a kid and just started school, so like four or five, I had this big problem making friends. I don't really know _why_, I guess it was just 'cause I was really loud. I always tried to help the teachers with stuff, but it went badly wrong and I always got in trouble and was misunderstood. None of the kids ever really wanted to play with me, and when I was out in the park and stuff parents always used to want to keep their kids away from me. My mum and dad never had time to take me to the park, so they got my sister to take me instead – but at that time she had a boyfriend, and she told me that I'd be okay on my own in the park while she went off and kissed him on the other side of the lake. I always had cuts, plasters and bruises too – I loved climbing trees, I just wasn't that good at it." Alfred chuckled.

"Yeah, nice life story, but could you get to the point, please? I have a life too, believe it or not." Arthur glared at the grinning boy.

"Oh right, sorry. So I looked like trouble to most parents, and kids didn't like me. So for the first few years at school, I was a bit of a loner – I didn't have any friends, let alone a best friend! Though at the time I didn't really _get_ what a friend was – I was too young, and it didn't really matter to me. But as I got a bit older, I started to get a bit more… aware of what was going on around me. When I passed little groups of friends, I sometimes heard them whispering my name. When I asked them what they were talking about, they'd just laugh at me. I started to envy the people who had someone to share everything with – someone to laugh with; I just had myself.

"So one day in the park, again while my sister was on the other side of the lake kissing her boyfriend, I decided that I was going to make a friend, no matter what. I thought it all through logically too! I thought 'how can I make someone my friend? That's easy; I just need to get their attention! But how do I do that…? Well, big things grasp people's attentions, of course!' So I set about making a tower, as tall as I possibly could, so more and more people would come and be my friend! I started gathering loads of things I found around the park – boxes that people left behind, large branches that'd fallen off trees, anything I could get my hands on that looked big. I then walked over to a wooden fence, and climbed to the top of it, perching on a billiard. It was only a low fence, like up to our hips now, but it felt like the way to the moon when I was that small! I started to pile the items I found up on top of each other, and sat on top of my little tower, waiting for the people to come over and ask to be my friend. As it turns out, no one ever came; I told myself it's because the tower wasn't big enough, and that tomorrow I'd have to try even harder to make an even bigger tower!" Alfred chuckled.

Arthur was watching him with a weird look in his eye – he almost looked _interested_, "Go on. Then what happened?"

"Patience, Arthur!" Alfred winked, but then continued, "So, as I was climbing down, because my tower wasn't very sturdy, I lost my balance, and fell off it from the top. It was so scary! I felt like the world was going to swallow me up. Luckily though, someone had come at the very last minute! My first friend!" Alfred smiled fondly, awe in his eye, "I looked up at the person that had caught me, and asked them 'Are you going to be my friend?' The person looked back down at me smiling, and told me that he couldn't be my friend, but he knew someone who could."

Alfred held up his bear triumphantly, "He gave me this! My very first friend! Of course, back then this little guy was an awful lot cleaner, and he was the coolest bear I'd ever seen! I looked up at the person who gave me it, and asked him if I could keep him. The man told me that I wasn't to keep him – I was to look after him, because he was my friend, not my belonging. He said that if you think you own your friends, then you will never have any friends, but if you look after your friends then you will have so many, many dear friends to you. He also told me that if I ever found someone who was in need of a friend, I would help them like this bear helped me. And with that, he was gone."

"But who _was_ he?" Arthur muttered, asking the obvious question.

Alfred shrugged, "I dunno. Just as he went, my sister came to get me – I pointed to the man, asking her who he was. She looked at me, and then at him, and just shrugged, though he looked about the same age as my sister – about fourteen at the time; I guess he wasn't really a man then." The American chuckled, "But my point it, Arthur, I made a promise to him, and I always keep my promises."

"I'm not psychic, Alfred, you'll have to expand." Arthur replied a board tone in his voice as he walked over to the sink and placed his now empty cup of tea in the soapy water.

"My point _is_ that I want you to have this." Alfred stood up and followed the boy over to the sink, holding out the bear.

"What…?" Arthur asked, bewildered.

"Arthur, don't play dumb. I've seen how people act around you; it's exactly like me all those years ago. Tell me; who is your best friend? Who could you _call_ a friend? You're just like me, except I'm willing to bet you've been just like me all your life." Alfred's tone wasn't harsh – it was empathic and understanding. He knew he was taking a gigantic risk saying all this stuff, but decided that if Arthur decided to take the advice, it'd be worth the risk.

There was silence for a second – one of the tensest silences Alfred had ever experienced. Arthur processed his thoughts and the outstretched bear in front of him, wondering what he should do.

Alfred must have been having a pretty lucky day. He felt Arthur lift the light weight of the bear out of his hands, and the Brit hugged the bear tight to his chest, much how Alfred had many, many times before. Arthur didn't make any eye contact with the American – he was too proud to do such a thing – but he did whisper a very soft, very gentle "Thank you," into the bears fur – and both knew that the show of gratitude wasn't for the bear it's self, but for the symbolism behind it.

"Your welcome. But there are two conditions." Alfred grinned.

"Oh?" Arthur looked up.

"One – You must look after the bear, not own him. He is your friend, not your belonging. You must hand him over when you meet someone who needs a friend, just like I was, and just like you are now." Alfred quoted the mysterious man from his memories, "And two – You must remember that not everyone out there is out to hurt you. Some people are willing to be your friend – the condition is, is that when someone demonstrates they want to be your friend, you must at least let them have a chance of getting close to you, rather than shutting yourself up in that kitchen of yours."

Arthur smiled weakly, "You're right – Alfred… I'm sorry for being so childish. This bear is in good hands, and I will make sure he is well looked after. I will look after him like I would look after a friend that, hopefully one day will appear."

"You big idiot! He's arrived!" Alfred grinned, hands on his hips, "I want to be your friend!"

The Brit couldn't help but widen his eyes, "_You_ want to be friends with _me?_ Someone as popular as you?"

"Pah! Whatever! I'm not popular! I'm just lovable!"

"I wouldn't stretch that far, you big idiot." Arthur couldn't help but laps back into his old, defensive self, but still hugged the bear close, and his tone didn't sound as venomous as it usually did.

"Heehee~ whatever~ you love me really!"

"Hm. That's negotiable. Now – I've noticed that you have a large pile of unfinished homework that's clogging up my bookshelf. I may have too much time on my hands, but it seems you do not. So go and get that homework done!" Arthur scolded, pointing at the door.

"Aww, Artie you're too harsh, y'know that?" Alfred moaned, but began heading towards the door.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever floats your boat. And my name isn't 'Artie'!"

"Artie, Artie, Artie!"

"Shut _up!"_

"Artie, can you help me with my homework?"

"No!"

"Pretty please~?"

"Bugger off, wanker!"

The two continued like this for most of the night, grinning like idiots. Well, that was easy, Alfred thought to himself while in bed that night, maybe this would be the start of a whole new friendship.

**A/N**

**BLAAAAAHHHHH~~~~~~ XD  
Sorry ._. I apologise deeply that it was so soppy/cliché at the end ._. Terrible, I know.**

**But, despite the predictable, love-story, symbolic stuff, I hope you enjoyed it ^^  
And Alfred's sister is again an OC X'D I'm pretty sure she's only going to be mentioned, and she's not a country or state or anything XD  
And _Japanese Sinister_ – Just for you I shall say the following thing :3 – If you've reviewed in the past, or faved or followed, then I love you, poppits~ :D how British XD Also, if you plan on reviewing (which I hope you do!) Then again another huge thank you for the show of support :D Love you all!  
Hope you enjoyed ^^ I'm almost done with the next chapter, but my Torchwood withdrawal symptoms are kicking in, and I need to watch the next episode, so it'll probably be completed tomorrow :3  
Thank you very much, my lovelies~  
**


	6. The Kirklands

**Chapter six – The Kirklands**

"Alistair."

"Wha'?"

"Get up."

"Fuck off."

"_That's_ not a very nice way to greet someone. Wake up or you're going to be late."

"It's a fucking Saturday."

"Yes, it is a 'fucking Saturday' as you have chosen to phrase it, but did you know that life proceeds onward _even on weekends?_ I know, right? I couldn't believe it at first, either, but apparently people do things on weekends!"

"Stop being so fucking sarcastic – it doesn't suit you. I mean what the hell am I gunna be late for? I always keep my Saturday mornings open so I can have a fucking lie in. Obviously some people don't care about a poor Scottish man's rest." Alastair moaned to his brother, Owain who was standing above the Scottish boy's bed, tapping his foot impatiently.

"You're not a man – you're a teenager, and you're coming with me, Alfred and Matthew to go shopping." Owain insisted

"I am _not_ going fucking shopping like some sort of girl!" Alastair groaned, dreading the thought of having to walk round with two people he didn't like. Matthew was too quiet, and Alfred was too loud. He'd never really _spoken_ to either of them, but hey, if people judged him for having to redo a year of school and having a bad smoking habit, why couldn't he judge other people?

"Please, Ali?" Owain used his brother's nickname from when they were kids, knowing the older brother was pretty vulnerable to it, "I'll make you back some _bara brith _when we get home~?"

Alastair froze at the mention of the Welsh fruitcake – Owain had the most amazing way of making bread taste so nice, and he would not share his sacred _bara brith_ recipe with _anyone_, not even his mother. This amazing cake was one of the very rare things Alastair could be persuaded by, and hell it had his mouth watering right now.

"Two loaves and it's a deal." Alastair grinned, bargaining like the pro he'd been brought up to be. He couldn't remember a single item his father had bought without bargaining for it first.

Owain narrowed his eyes, "You'll get fat."

"Fuck off! I exercise too much to get fat!" Alastair rolled over, flexing a muscle.

"You do have a point, to be fair." Owain admitted, poking his brother's tensed muscle, "okay, it's a deal! But you need to hurry up – I said we'd be there in five minutes!"

"Fuck, Owain! You could've told me sooner!" Alastair called; already out of bed and running - his pyjama trousers halfway down his ass – toward the bathroom, trying to grab clothes on the journey there.

The Welsh boy just giggled, and made about tidying up the room. Alastair was, and probably always would be his favourite brother. He knew that you weren't really meant to have favourite siblings, but he couldn't help it! Maybe it was due to the fact all six of the Kirkland brothers had grown up apart; they'd lived with their fathers in their homelands, which is why each had such a strong accent to their country and such a love for their part of the UK. Arthur and Peter were the only two that'd lived with their mother, and although none of the other boys would admit it, they were all incredibly jealous at the fact Arthur was the favourite of the family. But the brothers had stuck together, despite the fights they had, and though the twins and Alastair constantly reminded everyone just how much they hated their little brother, Owain knew that deep down, the oldest three really did love their littlest brother an awful lot.

Owain was very happy that Arthur had been assigned with such a kind roommate. Alfred was exactly what Arthur needed – someone who wouldn't judge him, so he could finally crawl out of his shell. Someone the English boy could be himself around, and Owain had no doubt that if anyone would succeed in befriending Arthur, the American would have a very good chance.

"Done!" Alastair called, throwing on his battered old canvas shoes and darting out of the door so quickly Owain had to run to keep up with him.

"Man, I didn't know you loved _bara brith _that much. I'll have to bribe you with it more…" Owain chuckled mischievously, a clever glint in his eye, "I could use this to my advantage!"

"Enough of your scheming, missy – we need to get into town!" Alastair grinned, punching his brother's arm lightly as they exited the large, over decorative gates of Goverek Boarding School. He seemed in higher spirits now he was up and out of bed.

"Missy! I'm a boy!" Owain shouted, shoving his brother towards the nearby bus stop

"Aye, aye, whatever you say lass – you're too pretty and girly to be a lad."

The two's mischievous, brotherly teasing continued the five minute bus journey into the centre of town, earning the Celtic brothers at least two annoyed glares off some random pensioners. Neither cared; they were teenagers for God's sake – they were _meant_ to annoy people, especially uptight, old people who worried too much about what their neighbours thought of them. So, ignoring the sharp glares and hinting coughs the two brothers continued their pointless, brotherly banter.

Finally, the bus pulled up just outside the Harbour Restaurant (if you wanted a nice pasty or something fishy, you couldn't go far wrong in there) and the boys clambered out and began the short five minute walk up to the centre of the tiny town. The smell of the sea burned in their nostrils, their lungs welcoming in the fresh, sea air. Gulls of all shapes and sizes flew above, waiting for one of the vulnerable tourists to just tilt their ice cream at just the right angle, or forget to protect their pasty and then would swoop down, swiping it cheekily right out of the hands of the shocked tourists. Everyone living there had seen it _so_ many times, but it never failed to make anyone laugh. It was _priceless_.

"Bloody hell we're late. What if they leave? Will I still get my bread? I made the effort and all! I got out of bed at what –" Alastair slid his phone open, checking the time, "Bloody hell! You got me up at _nine o' fucking clock in the morning!"_

"Well, more like half eight, but yeah~" Owain grinned mischievously.

"You little bastard! And why aren't you worried? We were meant to be with Alfred and Matthew ten minutes ago!" Alastair growled playfully, quickening his pace, worried about his promise of fruitcake.

"Ah~ see, I thought you'd have guessed by now, Alastair~" Owain taunted playfully, "I always arrive at least half an hour early! Alfred said he was getting here at ten."

The look on Alastair's face was priceless, and the giggling Welsh brother wished that he'd have brought his camera. He looked like he'd just walked into a room full of lesbian porn. But Owain was sure that if his brother _were_ to walk into a room full of porn, it'd be followed by a gigantic whoop of triumph and the boy would be in a good mood for the rest of the year. Right now, Alastair's shocked look was slowly going dangerously fiery like his aggressive hair.

"_You mean… I could've stayed in bed for another hour… and I've been running around like a headless chicken for the past half an hour for your fucking weird principles…!" _Owain was suddenly getting worried that Alastair actually might set himself on fire if he got any more worked up. The Scottish boy had very, very protective ideas about sleep, and he got extremely cranky if he didn't have at least six hours – which is why on a Sunday and Monday morning, he usually was ready to stab someone.

"Isn't it fun~?" Owain giggled, "Now we have time to get ice cream before we meet them!" The Welsh boy, along with the Irish twins were the some of the few people in the world that didn't get intimidated by Alastair's anger. They were too used to it, and knew that the boy never would hurt them, despite the amount of threats he made. Their mother was also immune to the fiery Scottish anger-issues, but their mother was as hard as nails – she could stick up for herself and her boys with boy arms tied behind her back.

Realising that his anger really did have no effect, and that he was wasting his energy, Alastair straightened up, clearing his throat and trying to revive his spilt pride from the curious on lookers at the odd Scottish teenager. "Well. If you put it _that_ way then…" Ice cream was another weakness of the Scottish boy's. Now Owain thought about it, his brother didn't _seem_ to have too many weaknesses, but if he listed all the ones he knew about there were at least thirty… most of which involved food or blackmail.

After the brothers had stopped at their favourite ice cream parlour (which was helpfully named 'The Ice Cream Parlour' for the easily confused) and bought their usual duo of banoffi fudge for Owain and rum and raisin for Alastair, the boys flopped casually on to a vacant bench, waiting for the pair of boys that wouldn't arrive for another hour.

* * *

Once Alfred _did_ arrive, there was a Plus One with him that neither of the ice-cream-devouring Celtic brothers had heard about.

At the American's side was none other than their little brother, Arthur, who was standing in Alfred's shadow hesitantly.

"Alfred…" The Brit muttered to the American as they approached his dumb-struck brothers, "You never said _Alastair _was coming…!"

"Owain!" Alastair growled at his brother, "Where the hell is Matthew, and why the _holy hell_ is our good-for-nothing brother here!"

"Alastair! Don't say that – he's your _brother _for Christ's sake – you should be happy he's actually come outside!" Owain snapped back just as curtly, then turned to Alfred and his brother who were approaching cautiously, "Hi, Alfred, Arthur!"

Alfred loosened up immediately when he found that Owain didn't seem bothered by him bringing Arthur, "Hey, Owain, and err…" Alfred turned to Arthur for help on the Scottish boy's name.

"Alastair." Arthur growled, turning curtly.

"Hey Alastair!" The American finished his sentence, nodding at the red head, who just nodded, annoyed in reply, "Matthew caught a cold – or that's what he's telling me. I was going to come on my own, but remembered I have shit-all idea about where I'm going." He explained all too cheerfully, "Arthur said he was coming into town anyway, so I figured we could go together!"

There was an awkward silence.

"Ehh… Shall we go, then?" Owain began diplomatically.

A _very_ awkward silence.

"I am _not_ going anywhere with my poor excuse for a brother!" Alastair growled, pointing an accusing finger at the glowering English boy.

"I assure you, Alastair, I'm not exactly overjoyed I get to spend the day with an alcoholic, drug-dealing delinquent that can't speak properly and acts like a two year old with a swearing issue. But hey, I can be an adult about it, and I'm dealing with it, because I'm here to buy things, unlike _some_ people who're here because they were bribed by a poor excuse for a fruitcake." Arthur spat back with double the venom in his un-broken voice.

"You little bastard! Take that back – we Scottish practically _invented _your language! You English are so full of yourself, thinking that you're so pure blooded and everything, but deep down you're all fucking Italian! The _original _British were _Celtic_. So that is the Scottish, the Welsh and the Irish. Did I mention 'English' in that sentence? No, because you're Roman!" Alastair continued his very pointless history blab as Arthur shot back insults about skirts and loch-ness-monsters.

Meanwhile, Owain and Alfred had very sneakily nipped off to go and get another ice cream from the Ice Cream Parlour, and five minutes later when they returned, they found Alastair and Arthur _still_ arguing.

"At least I don't believe in imaginary monsters that live in the sea!"  
"No – you talk to fucking fairies instead!"

"They're there! Look I can _see_ them, it's just everyone else is so blind!"

"Yeah, yeah whatever! Just because you can't accept you were dropped at birth!"

"Well at least I wasn't dropped onto a rock and stood on multiple times!"

Owain and Alfred exchanged amused glances, "They always like this?" Alfred sniggered whenever Owain nodded, a mischievous grin on his face.

Suddenly, two very ginger mirror-images flashed up in front of the group, finally shutting Arthur and Alastair up, "Seems you squirts need some help controlling dear brothers of ours."

There had appeared the Irish twins – Colin and Shane, grinning like idiots and looking all too pleased with the stunned looks they'd got from their brothers and Alfred.

"Where did you come from!" Owain asked the question everyone was thinking, pointing an accusing finger at his two brothers that seemed to have appeared from nowhere.

"Ah, dear brother," One twin said (little did everyone know, it was Shane) "The art of silently stalking is a hard one to master, but we have managed it, being the awesome people we are."

"You broke our fragile little hearts!" The other twin, Colin continued (you could tell his accent was that little bit softer and kinder than Shane's rough, southern Dublin accent), "All of you had a day out and didn't even think twice to invite us! It is a crime!"

"So you invited yourselves and followed us here then?" Alastair grumbled, "Great, and I thought I couldn't get surrounded by any more idiots."

"Aww Alastair, you know you love us _really_~" Shane grinned, as Colin playfully went to go and hug his older brother, who just roughly shoved him off.

As all the family greetings, accusations and fighting was taking place before his eyes, poor old Alfred wasn't entirely sure how to react. He remembered when he was little having fights with his sister, and then also having big long discussions and joking around with her, but she'd never really been _there_. There was a substantial age gap between the two of them - unlike the Kirklands that only had the maximum of two years in between each of them – and Alfred's sister had always had better things to do. Seeing such a lively family made Alfred smile, if not a teeny-tiny bit jealous. They didn't know how lucky they were.

"Alfred. I want to go." Arthur wondered over, pulling on the American's sleeve. Ever since their conversation the night before, Arthur had been more than a little protective over the American.

Looking at the big group of joking Brits, it made Alfred want to go and force Arthur to join in – he didn't know what he was missing! And in the future, he'd look back on his childhood and wish that he'd spent his days with his brothers, whether it was fighting, daring, teasing, or playing. "Nope! We're staying! By what Owain's told me it seems you need to go out more, anyway!"

"But for fuck's sake! Alastair hates me, Shane hates me, Colin doesn't even know I'm _there _and Owain doesn't stop speaking Welsh to me." Arthur whined in complaint.

At the mention of his language, Owain turned around, "Oh I'm sorry, Arthur – could you repeat that? I didn't quite hear you." His tone was an awful lot stonier than before.

"I _said_ you never stop talking fucking Welsh to me!"

"_Pardwn? Rywd I'n mynd I siarad Cymraeg I chi p'un a ydych yn ei hoffi neu ddim un hoffi~"_ Owain glared at his brother with a sweet smile. Little known to Alfred, the only thing that pissed Owain off about Arthur is the fact that he couldn't accept that Wales was a country and had its own language.

"Stop fucking talking to me in Welsh! It's basically English but with a load of y's and w's! We live in England!" Arthur got equally wound up about his brother's fluent Welsh.

_"Gau I fynu!" _

"I can't understand you!"

Alfred knew it was going to be a very, very long day.

**A/N**

**Ahahahaaaa, forgive me XD a short chapter, I know ._. it is terrible XD but I thought that rather than making it a long one and probably getting fed up half way through, it'd be a good stopping point right about now ^^  
The stuff Owain says translates as ~ "Pardon? I'm going to speak Welsh to you whether you like it or not~" and then "Shut up!"  
I used a combination of my (pitiful) Welsh book from school (I'm Welsh people, it's compulsory ._.) and crappy Google Translate, so I apologise XD  
But I hope you enjoyed reading :)  
REVIEWS ARE LOVE :D  
Thank you once again ^^  
OH ALSO. I put up there that Alastair was the oldest of the Kirklands (he repeated a year of school and everything) and St. Andrew's day (Scottie's birthday, I'm guessing XD) is before St. Patrick's day on the school calendar, so therefore Alastair is the oldest ^^  
Thank you all ^^**


	7. Matthew's 'cold'

**Chapter seven – Matthew's 'cold'**

To say Matthew woke up with a cold would be stretching it a little. Well, it'd be a full blown understatement, as his 'cold' was a slight sniffle and a tickly throat. It wasn't that the Canadian was _avoiding_ meeting up with Alfred – he just had to urgently see someone else.

The Canadian made a quick, guilty phone call to his new friend, emphasising his coughing as he explained the reason for his absence. Alfred had brushed it off, wishing his friend to get well soon, but even so, Matthew could hear the very slight tone of disappointment in his friend's voice.

Telling himself there was no avoiding it, Matthew got about getting ready for the day. Trying ever so hard not to wake

Kiku, his roommate, the Canadian pottered around, swiftly changing into his clothes and chucking two pieces of bread into the toaster – the canteen wouldn't be open that early, and even if it was, the food was eaten at your own risk. After pouring too much maple syrup on the cooked bread and plastering the pieces together to form a maple-syrup sandwich, the soft-spoken boy munched the bread down like he hadn't seen food in days. Within five minutes he was out of the door and ready to begin his day.

He just so _happened_ to be wondering down the corridors. His wondering just so _happened_ to take him toward the Year Nine's dorms, and he just so _happened _to be pacing outside a certain door. Checking his watch, not wanting to seem to early, Matthew hesitantly sat down in the corridor waiting for the very person he needed to waltz out of the door.

And five minutes later that's exactly what Francis Bonnefoy did; waltz out of his room, and almost trip over Matthew in the process.

"Oh! _Mon cher_, what're you doing there? I almost tripped over you!" Francis beamed at the sight of the Canadian, helping him up off the floor, "Ah! Now I remember, you'll have to excuse my bad manors~ I said I was going to spend the day with you, did I not?"

Nodding hesitantly, Matthew mirrored Francis' smile, though not as confidently, "Only if it's no trouble! I don't want a problem or anything."

"Oh, _ma belle,_ you could never be a problem, even if you tried~ well. No if you brought Alfred along, _then_ it'd be a problem." The French boy pouted, linking arms with the smaller Canadian, "I don't like the look of that boy, he seems all too loud, obnoxious and all around _American_. No taste whatsoever! I'm surprised he appeals to you as a friend, _mon cher_."

"Well, Alfred's loud and everything, but he _is_ really nice. Plus he always notices me!" Matthew smiled happily, "It feels nice to be seen."

Shaking his head jokingly, Francis ruffled the fluffy locks of Matthew's, "Ah, _mon cher_, those who don't notice you don't know what they're missing!"

Continuing with their conversation, Matthew and Francis continued strolling around the school, neither entirely sure of their destination. Both were just happy to talk to each other, and didn't really care where they spoke. Matthew still felt a little guilty for ditching Alfred with such a crappy excuse, but he _needed_ a day with Francis – it was like having French withdrawal symptoms or something. It wasn't like the two were _dating_ or anything, and Matthew didn't want that at all – he was straight after all! Last the Canadian had heard Francis was in a relationship with some scary looking, spiky-haired boy from the Netherlands.

"So! Given any more thought to your sexuality?" Francis grinned wickedly, a clever glint in his ice blue eyes.

"Francis! I've told you _– I'm straight_. S-t-r-a-i-g-h-t." He spelt the letters out loud, and even went so far as to write them in the air with his finger-pen.

"Ah, yes, yes, that is why your shower is full of hair products, your wardrobe is full of pink and you smell of the cleanest of roses~" Francis taunted patronisingly, knowing just where to aggravate the Canadian.

"Don't judge me! That's all stereotypes! If I judged you because you're a bisexual French guy, I wouldn't have come _near_ you! I'd have thought you'd be eating frogs by the dozen, and sleeping with both men _and_ women, have a range of freaky fetishes and a porn library under your bed!" Matthew cried, blushing, until he realised everything he'd said about a stereotypical French teenager had in fact been a pretty accurate description of Francis.

"Ah, _mon cher, mon cher,_ I do all of those things! You've witnessed my library, supplied me with _escar go, _and you know how many times I've tried to persuade you to sleep with me~" Francis admitted shamelessly, nothing to hide, "What were you saying about stereotypes?"

Now flustered and annoyed that his point had been flattened, Matthew narrowed his eyes half-seriously, "Just because you fit your countries' stereotype to a T, it doesn't mean because I _act_ gay I _am_ gay. I. Like. Girls." Matthew insisted, folding his arms.

"Sure, sure~ ever kissed one?" Francis winked happily.

Slightly ashamed, Matthew looked at the floor unhappily, "N-no…"

"Then, _mon cher,_ how can you tell which gender you like? You need to take a good browse at what each gender has to offer, and if you can't pick between the two, then naturally, you're bisexual~ It is nothing to be ashamed of if you like men, in fact you might find it an advantage! I know I do~" With another flirtatious wink, Francis stopped walking, cupping Matthew's cheek in his hand, "I could let you have a kiss with _me_ if it helps you decide~"

Matthew shook his head repetitively, unable to speak as he was afraid he might sound like some sort of kettle – his ears looked like they were about to turn into steam, and his cheeks were the rosiest of reds. Flustered and spluttering, Matthew whacked Francis' hands away, and finally gained control of his voice, "_N-n-n_-_no thank you._"

"Ah, you don't know what you are missing, _mon cher_~ perhaps when that special someone comes along you will be a little more willing. If you ever are heartbroken, you know where to come for a one night stand!"

"Shut _up_ Francis!"

"One day, Matthew Williams, one day I will have you in my grasp!" Francis grinned, half-joking. Matthew decided to ignore the half-serious part of his statement.

Before either of the two could continue their rather off conversation, there was a bellow from behind them, "_Francis! Slow down you complete and utter asshole!"_ Spinning around to greet the voice, Francis welcomed Gilbert, the speaker with a quick flash of his middle finger.

"_Mon cher, mon cher,_ do not use such foul language when we have such a pretty princess in our earshot~!" Francis teased, flicking Gilbert on the head.

"Matthew!" Gilbert greeted gleefully when he noticed the Canadian, "Sorry – Francis took all my awesome attention and I didn't notice you there!"

"S'fine, I'm used to it." Matthew smiled at the albino. He loved hanging around Gilbert and Francis – on their own both of them were good friends, and always put a smile on his face, but when all three of them together, Matthew was always suppressing a laugh, even if the two of them were arguing. They were hilarious together, but it wasn't like they _said_ anything funny, they just tickled Matthew. Everyone else wondered why Matthew was constantly giggling in their company – they annoyed everyone else!

"So where're we going? It's one fine day, to be fair." Gilbert squinted his red eyes to look up at the sky, using his hand as a sun-guard. The albino was right – the weather certainly was very warm – unusually warm for Britain.

The three racked their brains for a place to hang out. School was boring, town was off limits in case Matthew ran into Alfred – so where else to go in such a small town?

"I guess we could go to the beach…? It's still pretty early, so it wouldn't really be a waste of time." Francis chewed on his finger, his eyes gazing into the distance, focused on nothing in particular.

"You kidding? I'll go redder than Lovino when Antonio kisses him! The sun hates me!" Gilbert pouted.

"Gil, it's called sunscreen." Matthew pointed out, then returned to Francis, "That'd be a good idea! It's been ages since we've been out, and it's not like they're far away! Constantine Bay is… what a fifteen minute bus ride?"

"We could invite Antonio and Lovino too~ they look adorable in their swimwear~" Francis drawled all too happily.

"It's not like they're wearing fucking bikinis! What about Ita-chan and my brother?" Gilbert suggested, grinning.

"And Kiku!" Matthew grinned.

In a matter of minutes, the three boys had gleefully invited the others, and were back in their rooms, throwing on some trunks under their long shorts. Kiku was blushing slightly when Matthew came back into the room, unsure what he should wear, as he refused showing his chest or the top part of his legs. ('_It is improper!')_ Before they knew it, all of the eight boys were squished in the back of a bus, happily swearing, pushing and shoving each other. Well, everyone apart from Lovino, who was _always_ swearing.

* * *

Back in the town of Padstow, Alfred had been very right about his prediction on how long the day was going to be. It was only one o'clock and he already felt like jumping off one of the harbours from stress. Though he had to admit, the Kirkland brothers – or at least four out of five of them – knew how to have fun. Of course Arthur being the odd one out.

Especially the twins, Alfred had noted. From the moment they'd shown up the mood in the group had been immediately lightened. They were your perfect image of a stereotypical pair of twins – light-hearted, mischievous and happy-go-lucky. They were constantly telling Alastair that it was weird to flirt with Owain (to which both Alastair and Owain had begun swearing heavily and sending rude hand gestures to the twins.) To Arthur, they would constantly poke at him, and ask him how his fairies were doing, and if he'd convinced them to wank him off yet – Arthur had just blanked the two, which surprised Alfred, as he was pretty sure that the English boy would've got as worked up as his brothers, and throw a fit. Obvious he was used to the teasing. For Owain, every time they passed a dress shop they'd point out the most feminine dress and made comments on how 'it was _so_ beautiful, darhling. You should _totally_ try it on' and 'it was _so_ your colour, Owain, and it would highlight your figure _perfectly_'. To Alfred they just made racist comments, asking him not to eat the whole of Britain's hamburgers for lunch.

"It's not my fault the portions over here were made for dwarves!" Alfred pouted with two bottles of coke in his hand.

So now, the group had collapsed into a café – The Clipper to be exact - a cute little place that looked fairly local, and was teeming with tourists. Not the best place for a load of teenagers, it seemed, as parents were glaring at the six of them, especially Alastair and his cigarette. But hey – did they care?

"I still haven't got that book I needed…" Arthur moaned, taking a sip of his tea.

"No sweat, we can go and get it next, right?" Alfred glanced at Owain, who nodded happily.

"Hey, hey – who put you in charge? I'm the oldest, shouldn't I get to decide?" Alastair narrowed an eye in suspicion, his eyebrows getting closer together.

"You'd just lead us to the nearest porn shop." Shane accused, sticking a tongue out at his brother.

"Which, FYI is two miles to the east, a quick right and a sharp right – first door on your left." Colin added, chuckling. Though no one was quite sure if he was being joking or not. They _hoped_ he was joking, at least.

"Shut up, you complete twats." Alastair said, detaching his words and blowing a huge puff of smoke into the faces of the grinning idiots, "Go suck each others dicks."

Their cheeks flaring up, the twins separated quickly, "Just because we're close brothers, it _does not _end twincest! We are not your personal fanservice!" Colin pouted, Shane nodding in union.

"Idiots." Owain muttered, rolling his eyes before returning to a bacon sandwich he'd ordered, nibbling at the crusts in a mouse-eque fashion. Arthur nodded in agreement, and Alfred looked very close to cheering the three of them on.

After they'd been all but chucked out of the café (they finally got the hint when a waiter walked over, glaring and asked them if it was time they got going) the boys strolled around aimlessly in the approximate direction of the book shop Arthur needed to go to. Owain was content too, as he needed to get the next volume of _Shugo Chara. _Alastair and the others wouldn't shut up about how girly the Japanese manga was, and told Owain that he was slowly turning into a girl, and next he'd be wearing skirts. Owain always ignored them and told them the same thing – 'Kiku recommended it! Blame him!'

Deciding that they were too badass for bookshops, Alastair, the twins and oddly enough Alfred waited outside the falling apart little store. Leaning on the wall and dropping his finished cigarette to the floor, stamping on it, Alastair turned to the American.

"So Alfred. You and Arthur." The Scottish boy began.

Not really sure where the redhead was going, Alfred just grinned up - completely gormless, "Yes?"

"You're… friends?"

"No, they fucking hate each other, Alastair." Shane drawled sarcastically.

"Shut _up_ you retard." Alastair glared at his younger brother, and returned to Alfred, "Are you? Friends that is?" Alfred nodded a little confused, "just friends?" Alastair continued to push Alfred, as if willing him to answer the question with the answer he wanted.

"What do you mean?" Alfred cocked his head slightly, signalling for Alastair to continue. To his surprise though, one of the twins – he thought it was Colin – answered instead.

"You see, my little American, my brothers and I have a little bet on. I believe that you and Arthur are best friends and nothing more; Alastair believes you're secretly dating and won't tell anyone; Shane is convinced that you're friends for the moment, but that will all change soon; Owain said he really didn't care, and was happy whatever; and Peter's too young and too annoying." The Irish boy explained with a wicked glint in his eye as he saw Alfred's cheeks flush, "Which is true?"

Unsure how to react, Alfred stared at the smirking brothers, "W-wh—I—I don't even know what you're _on_ about any more! Me and Arthur are _friends_. And that was friends as of last night! We're hardly _best_ friends, or not yet anyway, and we're certainly not dating, and I hope we never do!" Alfred blushed, waving his hands about.

Sighing, Alastair lit another cigarette, "It _had_ to be so complicated, didn't it? Who the fuck gets the money now?"

"I think I should – I was closest!" Colin insisted.

"Aah, but dear brother, I think we all know that there's no way they're just going to stay _friends_. We know Arthur too well." Shane nodded knowingly, "Soon they will be dating – just you see! I think I deserve the money!"

Shaking his head, Alfred turned on the debating brothers, his cheeks burning. They really were odd.

"Wait a second." Colin suddenly realised what Alfred had said before, "You're not Arthur's best friend?"

"What? No! I can barely say we're friends. But hell, if I get to know him I don't see why we couldn't be best friends." Alfred shrugged indifferently.

Exchanging awkward looks, the brothers shared a sigh, "You do know that Arthur will have already put you on his mental best friend list? You're pretty much his very first friend." Colin explained.

"So what he's saying is don't let him know that you don't class him as a best friend yet. Knowing him and his weird feelings he'll probably get upset by it or something. He may be one hell of a pain in my beautiful backside, but we do care about him, believe it or not." Shane continued.

Wincing, Alfred could imagine Arthur getting hurt by something like that, what being all sensitive and everything. But hopefully Alfred would become fast friends with the boy, and this awkward, almost _one way_ friendship wouldn't stick around for too long.

"Arthur may be a little shit at times, but we're his brothers." Alastair began, cracking his knuckles menacingly, "But, because I'm a fucking awesome brother, I will stick up for him if he gets hurt. And that will involve beating up whoever hurts him. Which could very well be you. So watch it, American, or you will be watching not only my fist, but the Twin's first, most defiantly Arthur's fist, and possibly even Owain and Peter's fists as well. Well, with Peter he's more likely to bit your kneecaps, but you get the picture."

Nodding very confidently, Alfred mock saluted, "Understood. I understand Arthur – I'll be the best friend in the universe for him!"

"Good. Now 'best friend in the world' go and follow those nerdy bookworms we call our brothers. Scram." Alastair commanded. Deciding it would be best to stay on the Scottish teenager's good side; Alfred did just that, and ran inside the bookshop to find Owain and Arthur just paying for their books, smiling to each other.

Little known to Alfred, Owain and Arthur had just had a similar conversation to the American's, only minus the swearing.

"So – Alfred…" Owain started, following Arthur around the classic book section, "You two seem… friendly."

Narrowing his eyes slightly and raising an eyebrow in question, Arthur flicked idly through a book, "Well surely that's the nature of friendship, Owain?"

"You know what I mean." The Welsh boy nudged him gently, grinning, "Why is he the only person in the bloody world you'll be friends with?"

Arthur pointedly ignored his brother.

"Arthur. Answer me or I'll start talking in Welsh."

Who knew _Animal Farm_ could be so interesting, Arthur though to himself as he continued to ignore his brother.

"_Dwi'n hoffi…"_ Owain began.

"Okay, okay! I'm talking!" Arthur growled, giving in sooner than the Welsh boy thought he'd have lasted. Closing _Animal Farm_ and putting it safely back on it's place on the shelf, Arthur looked up at his brother, taking a deep breath, "Well, I guess Alfred understands me."

"And I don't?"

"You know I don't mean it like that – I mean he's the first person that's not related to me to understand me. He's been through what I've been through."

"I understand." The Welsh boy smiled, "So… Just friends?"

"What're you implying, brother?" Arthur suddenly got defensive, "Just because you've jumped out of the closet doesn't mean we all have."

Owain blushed at the obviously awkward memory of outing himself to his brothers, "Ah… Yeah sorry. I guess I jumped to conclusions. Well I'm glad you've made a friend, at least."

There was silence for a moment as they paid for their books, and Arthur looked up and genuinely smiled at his brother, "You know what? So am I."

That was when Alfred walked in – completely oblivious to the fact he'd just been the sole subject of the brother's conversations, both inside the bookshop and out.

"You two coming? 'parently Alastair wants to go and get some fishing tackle or something. And I was promised ice cream." The American grinned, patting his stomach patronisingly.

"You and your bloody stomach. Stupid American." Arthur muttered, with Owain giggling at his side.

"I heard that!" Alfred cried, running after the blonde, both of them sharing a huge grin.

Thanks to the Kirklands and their weird, protective family methods, Alfred finally began to understand Arthur and his family a bit more. Although they acted like they hated each other, each of the brothers were deep down very caring of each other. It wasn't much different to your average family – but of course with the Kirklands, everything was taken a few steps further.

**A/N**

**I have a cold Q_Q Colds suck, no? It's like you're not ill enough to get a day off school, so you have to go in with a headache and a stupid cough XD  
So yes~ This is where the romantic stuff kinda kicks off XD before this, Alfred is still really confused if the fact that most people in the school are gay. Of course _we_ all know that because this is Hetalia – of COURSE they're (pretty much) all going to be gay XD but poor naïve Alfred doesn't know that ^^ So you'll have to discover who's bisexual, straight or gay (or hiding in the closet) as Alfred does XD and yes, Owain has already been outed XD And Matthew thinks he's straight. Lol. Not gunna happen, you deluded Canadian XD**

**So thank you for reading ^^ and thank you if you reviewed! :'D love you! And to _Mrs. Kyouya Ootori_, I try to make these twins stray away from your stereotypical twin, and that includes Kaoru and Hikaru, and Fred and George, because the whole ginger twin mischievous thing is being abused, no? X'D but I can't seem to write them in any other way Q_Q I hope they don't get too similar to the Hiitachins or the Weasleys X'D Also, I love Ouran, and your username really made me chuckle X3  
Thank you very much for reading! :D**

**Also, the other pairings for this haven't really been decided yet, (apart from the obvious, unavoidable GerIta X'D) so if anyone wants to see a pairing, if it doesn't interfeir with any plans I have for future characters, (and if I support the pairing X'DDD ^^") then I can do my best to write it in :3  
Au revoir, lovelies! **


	8. Who's for Hide and Seek?

**Chapter eight – Who's for Hide and Seek?**

Sunday morning, Alfred was bouncing about like he'd been given some form of wakeup drug. Arthur was sleeping. Arthur didn't like being woken up by obnoxious Americans.

"Arthur, Arthur, Arthur, Arthur, Arthur." Alfred repeated the boy's name over and over until it just came out as little 'th's as his tongue was getting tired, "Arthuuuuuuuurrrrrr~~~~" He drew out the name, poking the soft cheeks of the sleeping boy.

Peeping open a tired, emerald eye, the English boy pierced Alfred's grinning face with a dagger-like stare. "I was sleeping."

"Well, now you're not! Which means we can go and have some fun!" Alfred announced, beaming.

Very slowly rising his torso up, Arthur stared at his American friend for a second, analysing him.

"No. I'm going back to sleep." He said flatly, and flopped back down on to the pillows. Arthur wasn't unlike Alastair in the way they both wanted their sleep, but when Alastair got violent and stroppy about his lack of sleep, Arthur just simply shut back down until his sleep meter had sufficiently been filled. He went into complete shut down mode, not unlike when a laptop's battery goes flat.

Shocked at the very flat reaction he got, Alfred leaned down to the fast asleep blonde, trying to shake him awake, "What? No way! You can't fall asleep on me like that!"

Apparently he could, as Arthur continued to snooze lightly through all of Alfred's violent attempts to wake him up. Either that or he was a very good actor. Either was a plausible explanation, so Alfred decided not to dwell over it. He could manage! He was an independent teenager… He could just meet up with someone else, right?

Right! Yes he could. Of course he could. He could just… go and pester Matthew.

Acting quickly on his plan before he could change his mind (he didn't want to get too distracted, after all.) The American bounded out of the door and down the short corridor to Matthew's door. Knocking on it, and then suddenly realising that Matthew might not be available at nine o'clock in the morning, Alfred stood and waited, half expecting the door to stay shut.

To his amazement, the door swung open in less than thirty seconds, Matthew standing in the doorway with only a very large shirt on.

"Alfred?" Matthew squeaked, realising who was standing at the door, pulling the shirt down as low as he possibly could, suddenly very embarrassed, "S-Sorry! I was expecting someone else!"

Not questioning who Matthew would want to meet in such an odd attire (the question didn't even occur to the ever innocent American) Alfred just grinned, "How you feeling? Is the cold a bit better?"

Eyes widening slightly, Matthew suddenly realised about his white lie the other day, hastily letting out a little cough and smiling at the American, "Eh, I think it's getting a little better – I woke up this morning and felt heaps better! Maybe it was because I didn't stop eating pancakes yesterday." It was _sort of_ true. When he'd got back from his day trip to the beach with Francis and the others, they'd all been starving, so they'd had a gigantic pancake fest, and didn't stop stuffing the flat, round cakes down their necks until they'd used all of Kiku's milk and eggs.

"Awesome! Glad you feel better, man! So how'd you say about hanging out? Or are you still feeling a bit crappy?" The American tried to keep the hope from shining through in his voice, but Matthew could hear it loud and clear – and knew that he'd have to be completely heartless to blow Alfred off a second time.

"Y-Yeah… I guess I could! But could you come back in a bit…? I only just got up, you see…" Matthew smiled lightly, "I'll text you when I'm ready."

"Sure thing, bro! Hey, I'll go and see if Arthur's awake yet, kay?" Alfred beamed, turning and waving, "See ya!" And with that he was off, bounding down the hallway.

The door flung open to his own room as Alfred dive-bombed on to Arthur's bed, "Artie! Artieee~ Wake _up_, man! We're going out with Mattie!"

To the American's surprise, the bed he'd dive-bombed on was empty. Arthur was nowhere to be seen. Curious and slightly confused to where the Brit might've disappeared to, Alfred popped his head through the door to the kitchen, seeing Arthur sitting on one of the chairs, reading a newspaper intently while sipping his tea. Alfred had to bite his lip to stop from sniggering – the image just looked so funny for some reason, and Arthur really did suit the whole old man, uptight, middle-class type image.

Turning at the sound of Alfred, Arthur flashed the smallest of smiles at his room mate, "Morning, Alfred. Sorry about earlier… I err… tend to get like that after a lack of sleep. You'll have to forgive my rudeness."

"Man, you sound like Kiku for god's sake. Its fine, man! But to re-pay me, you're coming out with me and Mattie today! Problem?"

"But… I was going to go to the music room today and…" Arthur began, avoiding the American's gaze.

Pouting, Alfred ignored Arthur's protests, "Yeah, yeah, you go to music _on your own_ and be a complete hermit all day, only to come home and do more homework that you don't even need to do! Arthur, don't waste your childhood! You're thirteen for God's sake! Come have fun with me and Mattie, yeah?"

Folding up his newspaper with a sigh, Arthur saw that there really was no choice in the matter, "You sound like my brothers. But fine, I'll come with you and Matthew. Providing Alastair doesn't come. Got it? Now where are we going?"

Alfred grinned triumphantly, and then shrugged, "Dunno – wherever the wind takes us!"

"Yes, yes. Very good. Let me finish up with breakfast and we can go." Arthur sighed, nibbling on a piece of toast.

The cupboards found themselves at the mercy of Alfred's boredom, as he routed through them while waiting for Arthur. He'd only had a brief look in them on his first day here, and hadn't really had a chance since. It was full of British branded things and items with a patriotic colour scheme. And they spelt 'Grey Tea' wrong. Everyone knows 'Gray' is spelt with an 'a'. Apparently not the British.

Alfred ruffled his nose in dislike as he examined the cereal selection Arthur had. None of them had colour in, or sugar for that matter. It was _whole grain_ cereal. So boring! Arthur must've noticed Alfred's little noises of distaste for the cereal, as he called out to the boy, "You know, you don't _have_ to eat those – you can buy your own, you know?"

"But where the hell am I going to get Lucky Charms and Fruit Loops over here?" Alfred sighed heavily, like it was the worst thing in the world.

"Easy, there's a shop just down the road that sells them. They're imports, mind, so they're quite expensive. Ten pounds a box." Arthur sighed at Alfred's blank look, "That's around fifteen dollars."

Jaw hanging open slightly, Alfred keeled back, "I can't pay that much! I don't have a job!" He mournfully sank to the floor, "My cereal…."

"Yes, yes, I feel your pain, it must be terrible. I'm ready, so let's go and get Matthew."

"Okay…" Alfred trailed after the Brit, sighing at his loss of cereal.

* * *

Half an hour, the three boys were _very_ bored.

"Alfred. This was _your_ idea – so _you_ come up with something to do." Arthur glared at his friend.

"Seconded." Matthew nodded curtly.

Before Alfred had a chance to reply with an excuse on why it shouldn't be _him_ who came up with what they were to do, he was saved by the cute voice of Feliciano ringing out from behind them.

"Alfred~! Come hang out with us, yeah? We're all bored, and we wanna have some fun!" Feliciano was running towards the three boys, with Lovino and Antonio following slowly behind. It seems it wasn't just Alfred, Arthur and Matthew who were struggling to find something to do on a boring Sunday morning.

"Tsk. Why do we have to hang around with _these_ idiots…? This is worse than having to hang around a pair of potato-bastards all day." Lovino cursed quietly to Antonio, and then realised what he'd said, "No. Nothing is worse than hanging around with two potato bastards."

"Oh, Lovi~ cheer up!" Antonio giggled, "It might be fun! Though I'm not too happy about hanging around Arthur… he is one annoying little Briton, right?"

"That's a fucking understatement if I've ever heard one." Lovino growled through gritted teeth.

"Now, now, Lovi~ don't swear, or Roderich'll wash your mouth out with soap again!" Antonio giggled happily.

"Don't call me Lovi, it's _Lovino!_ And why do you call all the teachers by their first names? It's weird! Weird!" The Italian said the insult twice as if it'd do double the damage. Antonio just grinned all too happily at the furious Italian.

Meanwhile, Alfred and Feliciano were catching up, like the brain-dead pair of friends they were.

"So, where should we go?" Feliciano waved his hands about happily, "Nowhere in town's open, so there's not a lot to do… And none of the busses are running today, so we can't go to the beach… We could go treasure hunting! Ludwig always does that with me and Kiku, but they're both busy with the clubs they're in today…"

* * *

After half an hour of deliberating what they should do, Arthur found himself crouched up in a large barrel in the middle of the corridor.

Feliciano and Alfred had insisted on playing hide and seek, and somehow, between the two of them, they'd got most of the school involved. _How _they'd done it, Arthur really didn't know, but there he was, hiding in a barrel.

If that Italian and American grew brains and joined forces, they'd be bloody dangerous. No, they'd be bloody _invincible_. They'd managed to get _Alastair_ playing hide and seek. Alastair, the fifteen year old who'd lost his virginity at thirteen, smoked many substances, most of which were illegal, and had the swearing vocabulary of Lovino Vargas – _playing hide and seek._

Not that Arthur was complaining – it'd be brilliant blackmail material if he managed to get a picture of Owain and his Scottish brother cooped up in a cupboard together.

Chuckling to himself at his devious scheme, Arthur imagined how much fun it would be if he could get a photo like that. Or get Kiku to teach him how to use Photoshop.

Suddenly, footsteps could be heard walking past Arthur's barrel. Instantly shutting up and holding his breath, Arthur tensed up, not entirely sure why he was trying so hard not to be found. It was a game, for God's sake! But Francis was on, and Arthur was determined not to be found by that frog; he would win, damn it!

But his plans seemed to be thwarted, as he could hear the lid of the barrel slowly being lifted up by someone. Craning his neck up to see who his captor was, Arthur met the sapphire blue orbs of none other than Alfred.

"Alfred!" Arthur hissed, "Put the lid back on! If Francis comes down here, he'll find me, and I don't want to loose because of an idiot like you! Bugger off!" Just because he was friends with the American now did _not_ mean he planned on changing his attitude.

"Artie! I need somewhere to hide! We're both small, and this barrel's pretty big! C'mon, man you gotta let me hide with you!" Alfred begged, as into the game as the Brit was. Deep down they were all big children.

"_Don't_ call me Artie, it's Arthur!" The boy whispered heatedly.

Footsteps could suddenly be heard from down the hall. Snapping their heads up in shock, Alfred and Arthur both froze in unison, looking somewhat like hares when they've seen a fox. The footsteps were followed by the very taunting call of Francis:

"Ahh~ I will find everyone~ Big Brother will one day triumph! I'm coming whether you're ready or not… Especially for you, cute little Feliciano!"

Staring at each other in shock, Alfred and Arthur shared the mutual understanding that they needed to hide _quickly_. There was a sound of a door opening and shutting – Francis had gone to search the music room right around the corner to where Arthur was hiding in his oversized barrel. Nodding, Arthur squatted into the corner of his barrel, letting Alfred climb in the other side, bringing the lid down on top of them, sealing all the light out.

"_Man _it's cramped in here…" Alfred complained.

"Yeah, it was rather spacious until your fat arse joined." Arthur stuck out his tongue, trying, and failing to snuggle into a comfortable position. He tried to ignore how closely he'd been forced to be to Alfred – they were practically hugging.

"Whatever! Just 'cause you're jealous of these to-die-for muscles!" Alfred grinned back in reply, the self-mock clear in his voice, but before Arthur could struggle to reply, the sound of the music room door opening could faintly be heard and two voices following it.

"Ahh, Matthew, I never thought you'd pretend to _be_ a piano. Really, I know you often sink into the crowd, but I thought you'd know I would notice you!"

"Shut up, Francis. I panicked – there was no where to hide, and I saw you coming, so I followed my intuition and pretended to be the piano."

"I have the cutest little outfit that is based on a piano – you really need to wear it one of these days, _mon cher_…"

"And what gender is it designed for, Francis?"

Francis didn't answer.

Alfred was listening to the conversation, and usually where he'd just raise his eyebrows in question, he felt a dangerous wave of giggles welding up in his throat – perhaps it was the obscurity on how two teenagers could take a game of hide and seek so seriously, or that an image of Matthew in a very short dress pattered with piano keys just wouldn't leave his mind. Either way, he couldn't help but let out a teeny snort of amusement, causing him to be kicked by Arthur, who was giving him a look as if to say '_fucking brilliant! You've rumbled our plans, idiot!'_

At the sound of the snort, Francis and Matthew both spun on their heels – all thoughts of cross-dressing pianos out of the window, now completely focused on the barrel that had just made a noise very, very similar to one of Alfred's infamous snorts. Exchanging triumphant glances, the French-speaking duo crept up on the barrel, very creepy smiles on their faces as they lifted up the lid of the barrel, expecting to see Alfred giggling his head off inside.

As usual, the American outdid their expectations, as he was indeed in the barrel looking up at Francis and Matthew, giggling his head off, but there was an annoyed little Brit in his lap, swearing at him for getting them rumbled.

"Well, Arthur, I knew you were secretly a pervert, but I didn't know you were so kinky you'd do it in a barrel…" Francis jeered, a taunting, gleeful smile painted all over his face, "Matthew, could you do the honours?"  
There was a little flash and the sound of a camera shutter sound, and Matthew lowered his digital camera, sharing a grin as creepy as Francis', "Blackmail material – obtained~" He threw the camera in the French boy's direction, who caught it swiftly in the air, examining the image, nodding in approval.

Blushing like there was no tomorrow, Arthur practically _jumped_ out of the barrel, trying to reach the camera out of the French boy's longer arms, "Give that here you complete and utter _wanker!_ Do I dare remind you I have photos of you trying to persuade Owain into a maid suit!"

"Ah, I came so _very_ close to success, if it wasn't for that foul-mouthed Alastair getting in the way at last minute, complaining I was 'ruining poor Owain's innocence'… If you ask me, Owain's kinkier than the rest of us put together, he just hides it with that sweet face… a definite seme in my opinion…" Francis mused while taunting Arthur absent mindedly, bringing the camera just low enough for him to reach, and then jerking it out of the way at last minute.

While all this was going on, Alfred was just sitting in the barrel in fits of giggles, not really caring that he'd just been accused of getting it on with Arthur in a barrel. He knew it wasn't true – and he also knew that Matthew was only bluffing, and he'd never _really_ be able to leek the photo. He'd only known the Canadian for a week or so, but he already knew his personality inside-out.

The proof was obvious when Alfred finally finished his giggling fit, and looked up at the Canadian who was shifting his feet awkwardly, avoiding his friend's gaze, "D-Did I go too far…?"

"Hell Mattie, in my old school, 'too far' was throwing a kid down the stairs and laughing at them in their hospital bed!" Alfred grinned, giving his friend a reassuring thumbs-up.

"Well, let's break these two idiots up, and go and find the others…" Matthew sighed, a fond smile on his face, "We've got thirteen more to find…"

* * *

"They will _never _find us here." Came the first voice

"A completely fool-proof plan, if I do say so myself!" Said the second.

The third: "I don't get why we have to hide _together_…"

And last, "You're all fucking kids. Why are we playing _hide and seek?_ If I wanted to be childish I'd go and get my Gameboy advance and re-complete every Pokémon game. Not play a game that bores four year olds!"

Colin, Shane, Owain and Alastair had also decided to join in the hide and seek game, and the twins had assured their brothers that they had a hiding spot where they were guaranteed to win, and no one would find them there. Naturally wanting to win (despite their age, and Alastair's our attitude) the brothers happily went along with the Irish pair. Little did they know that this hiding place was in Francis' wardrobe.

"You see," Colin whispered to his brothers, "Francis will _never_ think of looking in here – as he has a key to his closet, and only gives the person he's currently dating the key – and as he's currently single, he will think it's impossible that anyone is in here!"

Shane nodded in agreement, "I know, dear brothers, you will want to ask – where did we get this spare key from? Well if you'll cast your memories back to the time Owain and Francis were dating-"

Groaning at the memory, a raw blush grew on the Welsh boy's face, "Do we have to? I'm trying to forget that as quickly as possible."

"Seconded. That fucking frog wouldn't keep his slimy hands off you." Alastair spat on to the floor of the French boy's wardrobe, ignoring Owain's brooding on how you shouldn't damage other people's property, "So how'd you get the key? Amuse me."

"Ah, dear brother, you see we are _prepared_~! We knew not to waste an opportunity when we saw one, and Colin here is quite skilled at welding keys." Shane winked, "So, while Owain and the Frog were having a little match of tonsil tennis, we nabbed the key, quickly copied it, and then replaced it. Ever since, we've had the unique key to Frenchie's wardrobe, and no use. Though I must admit, I thought its debut act would be a little more exciting than a game of hide and seek…"

Francis' wardrobe was big, but to fit three gangling teens and their smaller little brother inside was stretching even the abyss inside the wooden doors. It seemed that the lowly wardrobe had a sort of reverse-TARDIS effect – while the TARDIS was bigger on the inside, the wardrobe seemed considerably smaller on the inside, though that probably had something to do with the millions of outfits that could clothe the entire population of Africa, and the peculiar box that smelt a little odd, and had pink fluff poking out of the top. None of the Kirklands were brave enough to peer inside, but they were all pretty sure what was inside.

Because of the lack of space, the brothers were forced to squish up close to each other, much like Alfred and Arthur in their barrel, only they were cushioned by multiple florescent, sometimes frilly French clothes. It wasn't too pleasant, and it smelt of a perfume Alastair was sure he'd smelt on his mother before.

Owain, who was unwillingly head butting Alastair's chest in an almost hug, mentally groaned, not realising it'd been audible too, "This brings back _so_ many memories… Bad ones. I remember him producing a _bunny outfit_ from here and trying to get me to put it on. And then the maid costume… And the nurse outfit… The only masculine one was a waiter's apron. Just the apron. I didn't mind the dragon one… That was quite cute. A little revealing, but cute and dragon-y all the same."

"Carry on talking and I'll puke all over you." Shane warned, "Or Alastair's on-coming nosebleed will drown you in blood. Whoever collapses first, really."

It was indeed true that Alastair felt an on coming nosebleed – and there was a healthy, pink blush colouring his cheeks, but there was no way he was admitting that to his brothers. Good job it was so dark in the wardrobe… "Shut up you pikey – go and drown yourself." His retort was weak, but the twins could hear the edge in the voice and decided to shut up.

Little did the four, erotically-posed boys know, while they were busy arguing, their finder had crept into the room unheard. Alfred was sniggering to himself again, triumphant that he'd managed to find so many people at once. Now to tell Francis!

Francis was notified via text, and sure enough, two minutes later he appeared flanked by Matthew and his camera and Arthur, who looked like he was ready to punch the French boy right in the nose.

"In there?" Francis mouthed at the American, who nodded, though he needn't, as when a wardrobe start shaking and making noises from inside, you can either assume that someone's inside there, or that it's haunted, and seeing as they were having a game of hide and seek they decided it was safe to assume that people were hiding in there.

In one quick swoop, Francis had jammed his original key in the lock, turning it swiftly and the doors fell open, and as the four boys were leaning on the door, they fell _out_, and to greet them to the floor was the flash of Matthew's camera, perfectly preserving the moment the Kirkland brothers fell out of the wardrobe, all landing in positions more commonly seen in one of Alastair's many porn books.

"Hah! Finally coming out the closet I see, dear brothers?" Arthur cackled at his all-too-obvious joke, but it still got giggles from Matthew, Alfred, Owain and even Francis – and a snarl off Alastair.

"Oh fucking _hilarious_, Arthur, you're a total comedy genius, why don't you do stand-up?"

"Ahaha. Sorry to break up your lovely brotherly fighting, but I would like to know how you got into my beloved wardrobe." Francis drawled, his fake laugh obvious, "Owain, I have no doubt it has something to do with you, _mon amour."_

"You can stay the fuck away from him, Frog!" Came the shouts of Alastair, Arthur and even the twins, and when they realised they'd all jumped to their younger brother's defence, blushed heatedly, looking at the floor. Apart from Alastair, who was still swearing heatedly.

"Actually it was nothing to do with me. The twins made a copy of your key, that's all." Owain shrugged, climbing to his feet and dusting his clothes off, "Just because we dated in the past doesn't mean everything I do now relates to you."

Alfred analysed what Owain said, suddenly clicking in his head, "What! You two _dated?_ Wait. Owain, you're _gay?"_

The whole group turned their heads to Alfred, each and every one wearing the same expression that said '_oh come on, you can't be _that_ stupid.'_ Even Owain was looking at him like he'd actually had a dog's brain implanted into his head.

"Okay, okay, it might've been a little bit obvious, but I didn't want to judge!" Alfred waved his hands about in defence.

"Stupid American's aside, I would like to have my key back, _mon lutins," _Francis turned his back on Alfred, ignoring him completely.

Glaring at Owain and then sticking their bottom lips out in a childish pout, Colin reached down into his pocket, bringing out a badly-welded key, and chucking it into the French boy's outstretched palm, "Fine. But this is not the end, Frenchie! We will have your revenge for that dragon costume you forced Owain into!"

Raising an eyebrow at his now blushing ex, Francis chuckled, throwing an arm around the Welsh boy, "Oh _mon cher, mon cher_, I never thought you'd tell your brothers about our adventures in the bedroom!"

Two minutes later, the group was walking down the hallway, scowls on all of the Kirkland's faces. Well, it was the group, minus Francis, who'd been left in his room on the floor after receiving five punches, one off each of the brothers.

"Well, let's go and find everyone else then." Arthur sighed, and they continued their childish game of hide and seek.

**A/N**

**_Translation stuff~ _Mon lutins- My leprechauns (I think anyway X'D)**

**Hmm… I like this chapter, but I don't like it. It's weird. X'D I think I've written it terribly, and it does no help on moving the plot along, but it does amuse me X'D well... It sort of doesn't move the plot – I just need to get the characters friendlier with each other :) I have a really cute idea in my head X3  
but yes! HETAONI REFERENCES FTW X'D I admit, I got my inspiration for the piano costume France mentioned off a piece of fan art X'D Heehee :3  
Owain in a dragon sexy little dragon costume *¬* my lord. X'D  
Anyways! Thank you very much for reading, and if you've reviewed/faved/followed, I love you! And I love you if you plan on doing it X'D  
._. It's so hot…  
And finally~ with the pairings, I think I'm gunna put in some very light Alastair x Owain (As much as I love incest, I don't think it'd be all that realistic for brothers to date ._.") And I might have a little Francis/Gilbert/Matthew love triangle going on X'D thank you to _animewatcherfreakmal_ and _Japanese Sinister_ :)**

**Ah! I lied, this is the final point X'D Last week I kinda went crazy with updates ^^" and I don't think I'll be able to update like that usually, especially now we've got quite a few tests coming up in school XD but hey, there's a holiday next week so don't worry! :D  
**


	9. Best friends at last

**Chapter nine – Best friends at last**

Monday flew past, and with it the mark of Alfred's second week in school. He'd only been in the castle for seven days and six nights, but he already felt like he belonged there, and everyone had accepted him. No one could remember life without Alfred, and everyone, although some didn't show it, appreciated his bright look at life, as he washed over them like a refreshing wave of nostalgia.

Even though Alfred reminded every one of themselves in the very distant past, it didn't stop them from getting annoyed at him. Arthur especially demonstrated that, and although now he'd hardly ever leave Alfred's side, he didn't stoop to insult the American whenever possible. Alfred didn't take any of it personally – he was 'mature' enough to understand that Arthur was learning – he didn't know what it meant to be a good or bad friend, and probably felt awfully uncomfortable around Alfred, hence why he was constantly spluttering out bold flaws in the American's personality.

The Brit was indeed growing on Alfred – he found Arthur's company very comforting and even relaxing at times; he was never too loud like he himself could be, and never brought up awkward situations. The two actually were becoming quite close friends – and Alfred was very pleased he'd had the chance to befriend the Brit.

After school on Monday, the two were walking back to their dorm together, with the company of Matthew and Kiku, who were in the dorm opposite to them. Kiku made light conversation with Arthur (Alfred didn't know they spoke…) while Alfred began blabbing to Matthew about how cool the new Men in Black movie looked. Matthew just nodded along happily, not really listening to the spew of positive adjectives spilling out of Alfred's mouth.

"Well, I'll see you guys tomorrow!" Alfred grinned at Kiku and Matthew, waving as he stepped inside his dorm after Arthur, who was already making a cup of tea, and shutting the door behind him. "Man that was one hectic day! _How_ many essays was it, Arthur?"

Arthur shouted a number through the open kitchen door, but something had caught Alfred's eye. Grinning his wide, sparkly-eyed grin, he crept over to Arthur's unmade bed. Usually the bed was impeccably neat, not a cushion or stuffed-unicorn out of place, but this morning both boys had been in a rush. Alfred had decided it'd be funny to turn Arthur's alarm off – you know, to get him back for the bucket-of-water-on-head situation last week, _until_ he remembered that it was Arthur that woke him up in the morning, hence the reason they'd both been late, and Arthur didn't have chance to re-make his bed, leaving the sheets in the same position he'd flung them off himself that morning.

And right there in the nestle of sheets, almost defiantly where he would have held his arms, lay the bear he'd given to Arthur. Sitting on the bed, that same grin still plastered all over his cheeks, Alfred gingerly picked up the little bear, hugging it like he'd always used to. He found it absolutely adorable that Arthur had been sleeping with the little symbolic ball of fluff; right there in the cradle of his arms, much like Alfred was holding it now. This was one loved bear! Being chosen over the hundreds of unicorns, some of whom had even fallen on the floor.

"Alfred! I was talking to you, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't wonder off mid conversat…ion…!" Arthur began, walking through, trying to get the American's attention, and then laid eyes on the scene in front of him, his cheeks growing increasingly red by the millisecond, you could even _see_ it! "I-It's not what it looks like! I-I wasn't hugging that bear! Do you think I'd be so childish? And I'd much rather hug one of my unicorns than that damn physical metaphor! I was in a rush this morning; he must've fallen into that position! Yes, yes that was it!"

The endless stream of excuses continued, but Alfred ignored them, striding over to the very flustered blonde. Placing a strong hand on Arthur's shoulders (Alfred grinned as Arthur flinched at the casual touch) smiling down at his new friend, "Artie, bears are _meant_ to be hugged, right? I told you to take good care of him, and you are! You're just keeping your promises." Alfred pressed the bear into Arthur's arms, smiling kindly, "Besides, it's kinda cute!"

Arthur didn't know it was possible to blush more than he already was, but somehow his body managed it, cheeks positively glowing. He wasn't all too sure how to react – follow his gut and push Alfred away both verbally and physically? Or to listen to the nagging voice in his heart and hug the boy. Arthur had no idea _why_ he wanted to hug Alfred – he didn't make much of it, Owain hugged people all the time, and Feliciano hugged Ludwig… So he could hug Alfred… right?

As it turned out, as Arthur was panicking what to do, Alfred had already beaten him to the hug that they both knew would come sooner or later. The American gently enveloped his friend in the safety of his strong arms, smiling to himself as he felt Arthur stiffen up around him, the bear the only gap in between the two. One thing Alfred to expect was, after a few seconds, there were arms wrapped around _his_ back in reply! The bear now completely forgotten, Arthur gave in to all emotion and followed his heart, and finally let his guard down, accepting the hug he'd been yearning for after so many years. Arthur could never remember the warm arms of another human being around his, and it felt wonderful.

A good minute or two passed before the two let go of the other's torso, both sharing a little knowing smile with each other, catching the other's eye – Alfred couldn't help himself and winked cheekily at the blushing boy.

"Man, I'm straight and I have to admit you're adorable with a blushing face…" Alfred smiled fondly sitting back down on his bed. He couldn't help but notice how disappointed Arthur looked at his statement… weird… unless he was imagining it.

Sitting down next to him, Arthur's gaze wondered to the floor, "I've been meaning to talk to you about that… sexuality and stuff… y'know, what with this being the gayest school in England and all." He smiled weakly, attempting to lighten the mood, "What do you feel towards… gays and that?"

"I dunno really… I'm not _a_ gay, but I'm not homophobic. I'm not one of those people who'll avoid you if your gay, but then again, I won't suck up to someone who's gay just so I can say I have a gay best friend or something, like some girls would. It just doesn't really matter to me – they're the same as anyone else, it's not weird or anything, I just don't share the same preferences as them. I don't believe they deserve to be treated any worse, or any better than your average human." Alfred shrugged.

Slightly stunned at how mature Alfred was being, Arthur cleared his throat, "That was very… impressive, actually Alfred. Especially for your age… most kids our age are completely immature about such things, and avoid gays like the plague."

"Thanks, Artie! I can be sensible when I want to be, you know! There is _something_ up there…" Alfred grinned, tapping his blonde locks, "_Somewhere…"_

Chuckling, Arthur knocked his shoulder lightly, "It's _Arthur_, idiot. But yes, I congratulate you on finding your inner adult!"

"Don't patronise me, Artie!" Alfred ignored the pout from his friend at the use of the nickname. After a slight silence, Alfred looked up again, "So what do _you_ like?"

Arthur shrugged nonchalantly, "I don't really know, if I'm honest. I haven't been all that sociable with friendships, so I've hardly had time to worry about relationships. I can't rule the possibility of being gay out, or bisexual for that matter, but I can't rule straight out as an option."

"What would your family say? Y'know, if you _did_ turn out to be riding on the other bus?"

"My mother would be fine with it – it's the same with Owain, she smiled and congratulated him on how he was able to find himself so quickly. My dad… I'm not too sure. He's really big on religion and follows the Bible like the law – I don't think he'd be all to happy to know that I would stoop so low as to disobey the word of 'God'. I don't believe in God though – some of the things in the Bible… they _scare_ me. If God is so high and mighty, then why does he test his own followers by commanding them to sacrifice the child he granted them? Why does he reject his people who happen to like the same gender? How come _he_ holds final judgement on us all – what did he do to earn that position of God of this world?" Arthur sighed, "That's beside the point… But my dad never did like Owain, but ever since he came out he's never stopped making crude remarks about him… It's terrible. It's not small things, like little crude comments that can easily be ignored, even when Owain's visiting he carries on saying terrible stuff, and saying how one day everyone will realise what a 'queer little shit' he is, and all of them will desert him. It's upsetting knowing your dad can say stuff like that to his step-son."

A little amazed at how much Arthur was sharing; Alfred saw this was a useful opportunity to his friend, "So… your dad hates Owain? How come?"

Arthur shrugged sadly, "I really don't know… But all of us brothers lived with our dads. Each of us has separate fathers, all of whom have married and divorced my mother, apart from my dad – he's still with her. But ever since I was a little boy I heard my father ranting about how reckless the twins were, and how useless and pathetic Alastair was, and that Owain was the feeblest excuse for a baby he'd ever seen. I grew up thinking that my dad was right, and never had any respect for y brothers, because when you're young, you believe what you're told. Although my brothers lived in their respected countries with their fathers, they were always visiting our mother. She's a kind woman, but never has any time on her hands, and tends to be one of those lovey-dovey teenager types. She's never actually agreed with any insult my father has said to my brothers, but she's never told him to stop it…  
"One day I was visiting Owain in Wales, I didn't really want to, but my mother wanted to say hi to him and her ex-husband, so I had to go along. I must've been about five, and I'd never really met my brother's fathers. It was only when I saw how kind and gentle Owain's father was, I began to realise what a monster my own father was. He only ever shouted at me, that is, if he wasn't insulting someone else. It happened when I met Alastair and the Twin's fathers too – I'd never seen such kind fathers, ones with eyes full of such love. It was then I began to understand my brothers weren't bad people; after all they'd never done anything to me, really, but it was my dad. Since then, most of my brothers have been pretty annoyed with me, and I don't blame them, for God's sake, I was a dick to them until I was about six, and never stopped repeating the remarks I'd heard off my father. Once I learnt what they meant though, I stopped, and apologised for saying such horrible things to them. Owain's always been fine with it, the twins, Colin especially seem to have forgiven me, but Alastair still blames me for stealing our mother away from them, and sees me as a miniature version of my father… I guess I'll never be his real brother, or from his point of view, anyway…"

"He doesn't think that, you know." Alfred said, catching Arthur's attention, "He values you as a brother."

"Don't talk shit, Alfred; I've accepted it now, y'know?" Arthur smiled weakly, shifting his arms about awkwardly.

Sighing, but with a matching smile gently formed on his face, Alfred turned to his friend, "Nu huh~ he told me himself – even though him and the twins act like they really can't be bothered with you, deep down they know how much they value and love you as a brother. I am 1000% certain."

"Idiot. You can't have percentages over one hundred – percent means per one hundred." Arthur neatly avoided the main focus, blushing slightly.

"Whatever! Just because you know I'm right really!" Alfred grinned happily, "They care about you!"

"I… I suppose if you phrase it like that… I might believe you. I'd have to get confirmation off them first though… I'm not 100% convinced. But… there's something I want to ask _you_…" Arthur was avoiding the curious American's gaze.

Leaning in, very confused by Arthur's sudden bashful attitude, the American cocked his head, "Go on?"  
"… Do you… y'know… as a friend…"

"Not a mind reader, Artie."

"Agh god damn it!" Arthur swore heatedly, and then blurted out as if it were all one long word, "Do you care about me? Do I mean anything to you?"

Alfred had to bite down on his lip _very hard_ so that he didn't burst into fits of laughter – he found it so adorable Arthur was getting so worked up about such little things, "Artie, look at me." The Brit obeyed, "You're my best friend! _Of course _I care about you, and _of course_ you mean something to me!" Ruffling the smaller boy's hair fondly, Alfred grinned, "We're best friends. Don't sweat, buddy."

At first, Alfred felt a wave of guilt at what he'd said – as he'd thought before, him and Arthur were indeed friends, and he had intended to become close to the Brit, but best friend? Not yet. But when thinking about the past week, Alfred realised he'd been spending all his time around Arthur, a lot more than he spent with Owain or Matthew, and him and Arthur were becoming quite the double-act in school. Maybe they were closer than Alfred had planned…? Maybe he was being hypocritical, and worrying about stuff that _really didn't matter_. They were best friends!

Yes. Alfred and Arthur – best friends.

Perhaps a very childish approach, but Alfred was still pleased.

"Best friends." Arthur spoke aloud, smiling at how it sounded, "Forever."

"You sound like a girl!" Alfred giggled, "But yes. Best friends forever. How gay I sound…"

"Who the fuck cares?"

"I do!"

"Shut up."

"Whatever, bestie!"

* * *

"Carlos, what were you saying, sorry?" Matthew asked into his phone, "I got a little distracted."

"Man, Mattie, try concentrating?" Carlos chuckled down the receiver, "I was _saying_ that there's a new place open over on the beaches across the way, and apparently its ice cream is legendary – whaddya say about the two Godly Ice Cream Critiques go and check it out this weekend?"

"That sounds… icy." Matthew smiled lamely, "But yeah! It sounds like an awesome idea! They were holding a festival up there, I heard. Kiku's parents live up there, and they wanted to bring some of Japan to England, so they're holding a summer festival or something, and it's this weekend! With fireworks and everything!" Matthew ranted enthusiastically, "We could go there too, right?"

"Yeah! That sounds pretty awesome! Even though it's still spring…"

"I could ask Francis and Gilbert too! In that case it'd be rude not to ask Antonio… You two're pretty friendly too, aren't you? And you could ask Jett! It's been ages since I've seen him! And if Antonio and the others are going, then that'll probably mean Lovino'll want to go, which will mean Feli and Ludwig will tag along, mind they're already going for Kiku, probably…"

Before Carlos knew it, Matthew had created a list of about twenty people that now needed to come with them to the ice cream tasting and summer festival. Two of whom included Alfred and Arthur – two people Carlos really didn't like the look of. Especially as he'd suggested the ice-cream-testing-thing to Matthew because _he_ wanted to take him. On his _own._ A date, if you had to put a label on it.

"Well, I'll talk to you later about it, yeah?" Carlos smiled, easily masking his bitter disappointment, "Well I'll talk to you later about it, yeah? I gotta go, Jett's being a complete _baboso_, see ya."

The dialling tone beeped in Matthews' ear like some sort of omnibus, monotonous gloating in his ear. He couldn't help but feel he'd done something wrong, though it was beyond him what he could've possibly done. Shaking it off, the Canadian smiled, throwing his phone onto his bed, grinning. The weekend would be so much fun! They'd all be on the beach together, eating ice cream and surrounded by fireworks. Matthew didn't _care_ it was a cliché way to spend time with your friends – there's a reason it's a cliché – because so many people enjoy doing it!

First job – convince Kiku to slack off and ditch his parents. Second, organise everything with Owain and Toris – those two were organised people, and Matthew knew they'd jump at the chance to spend time with others out of school. Alfred would be no problem to win over, and if he was going then the chances are Arthur would follow without even being invited. As for everyone else, they'd all be pretty easy to convince. Job done!

Smiling to himself, Matthew skipped over to his black-out blinds, pulling them shut. Kiku was out practicing with his 'Asian Rock Band' he'd grudgingly admitted to Matthew. Apparently Im Yong Soo had convinced not only Kiku, but Miss Mei Wan and Professor Yao, the teachers from Taiwan and China, too. Kaoru in year seven had even been seen in practice, according to Kiku, and they were building up a cute little rock band. Yong Soo claimed that they'd invented the concept of Asian rock bands, and none of them could agree whether it was J-pop, or K-pop, or whatever other –pops there were. Matthew really didn't understand.

Well whatever, he thought to himself. The point was, he was happy! He'd get to spend the weekend with his best friends – Carlos, Francis, Gilbert and Alfred. Matthew wasn't too sure why Francis and Gilbert were on his list of favourite people. They were a bit of a burden to him most of the time – always complaining about wanting to be kissed by him, and that one day he;d realise his inner femininity, and come out of the closet. He was straight – really! Not one person believed him, like, not even _Alfred_, but it was true!

After all, he was in love, so he should know best of all, right? If he was in love with a girl, then that made him straight. He was _indeed_ in love with a girl, after all, not that she'd ever notice him, like most people…

**A/N**

**AUGH. I do not like this chapter one bit! So… BLARGH.  
But next time it shall get better! I have big plans for the next one!  
FIRST OFF.  
**_**DarkAnimeMangaLife**_** - Yup this is a USUK ^^ sorry it's not been all that Alfred/Arthur focused so far – as it's the main pairing I'm taking it really slow with them, they need to discover each other :) sorry if I blag a bit . And yeah, they're 12/13 :)  
Second, if there are any theists out there who I've offended, I really don't mean to cause offence with this chapter Q_Q That is just the way Arthur sees the world, yes? He believes that God is a little too big for his boots, and abuses his power – I don't want to sound blasphemous! DX X'D  
Also, it's coming to a point where I have to include a few girls, just to move the storyline along a little, they won't be major characters :) but seeing as I have plans for each of the official girls so far (they're either teachers, in disguise ((you shall find out :3)) or have yet to appear XD) I was wondering, should I make the girls-yet-to-appear Nyotalia characters, or OCs? Of course with the Nyotalia it wouldn't be all like 'PARADOX, YOU'RE TOUCHING YOURSELF – TIME SPACE EXPLOSION!' They'd simply be separate characters :) Which do you all prefer?  
Seeing as I'm asking questions~ Hinting one sided Cuba/Canada? :D so that's one sided Franada, Prucan too? Like a little love square? Or would that be too much? I can make it go anywhere :D and Matthew is convinced he's in love with a girl XD maybe he is, maybe he isn't! Who knows!**

**Thank you very much to lovely little reviewers :3 /hugs you all/ I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH!  
Also. If you haven't seen Sekai Ichi no Hatsukoi, GO AND WATCH IT. :P most adorable BL you will ever see XD**


	10. Not your ideal holiday location

**Chapter ten – Not your ideal holiday location**

"Yup! That's great, I'll make sure Alastair and the Twins come too, no need to worry. I'm looking forward to it! We'll meet you at the bus stop with the others in about an hour. Bye!"

Owain shut his phone, smiling to himself before calling over to his brother, "Al! You need to get up, Matthew's arranging to go out later and everyone's going, so that includes you too!"

There was silence for a minute before Alastair trooped into the kitchen, his duvet wrapped around him and grumbling to himself, "You'll never let me have a lie in on a Saturday morning, will you?" He dropped himself on to a chair Owain had swiftly pulled out for him, nibbling on the end of a piece of toast the Welsh boy had placed in front of him, complaining about how it was _English_ jam, not Welsh or Scottish.

"Oh be quiet and stop moaning – you need to make the most of your teenage years!" Owain grinned, sitting opposite his brother and digging into a bowl of plain looking cereal he'd decorated with a selection of fruits.

"You say that like you're our mum, but you're bloody younger than me…" Alastair grumbled half-heartedly, lighting a cigarette.

Glaring at the foul-smelling smoke, Owain ticked his tongue, "You really need to quit one of these days, Al. I don't like seeing you slowly kill yourself…"

A small smile tugged at Alastair's lips, and after taking a large drag of the burning poison, he snubbed the end of the practically untouched cigarette into the ash tray, ending its short life, "There we go. Problem solved."

"You _know_ it's not as easy as that, Al…" Owain pouted.

"Okay, I'll try and quit. For you. I really couldn't care less what it did to me, but I suppose you're breathing in the second-hand smoke too…" Alastair reasoned, shrugging and chucking the two packs he had with him in a nearby bin, "It'll be easy. I'll just chew nicotine gum."

Rolling his eyes, Owain couldn't help but grin, "Al, it's not that easy! And I'm not really bothered about the second-hand smoke; I just don't want you ruining your chest! It'd be such a shame if your teeth went all yellow and disgusting… it's a miracle it hasn't happened already…"

"Whatever. I really don't care." Alastair muttered into his toast, but was secretly smiling to himself at Owain's mother-hen-like brooding. He was glad to have Owain around him – the boy really was like their stand-in mother, and always had been, seeing as their _real_ mother had always been off with other men, flirting around despite the expensive diamond wedding ring on her ring finger.

"You love me really." Alastair said wryly, smiling, "Stop frowning, you'll get wrinkles, and then you'll look like an old woman – I'll have to buy you a shawl!"

"Shut up! You know better than anyone that I'm a boy!" Owain pouted, folding his arms and turning his back childishly, "But yes, we both know I love you really."

"Told ya, granny!"

"Shut up!"

Now at the point of wanting to throw the slices of bread in his hand at his brother, Owain glared down at the floor, not wanting to seem too childish. Truth be told, he hated being accused of having feminine qualities. It was because as a young boy, Arthur's father had always muttered things about him, about how he was a little girl trapped inside a boys body, and how one day he'd come out gay, get a sex change, or both. Annoyingly he'd been right about the gay thing, but Owain was perfectly happy with his chromosomes the way they were, thank you very much. He did not want to be called a girl, and he certainly did not want to be turned into one!

"Owain, I'm sorry 'bout the girly jokes, you know I'm only joking, right?" Alastair approached his brother gingerly, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder, "Don't take it personally?"

Shaking his head, his brother smiled, "Sorry, I was being childish, I shouldn't be so touchy about such small things!"

Alastair ran a hand through his brother's wavy golden locks, "It's not childish at all, okay? Besides, you have all the nice features of a girl – the stuff other girls would kill for! Like your silky hair and your soft skin…" He lightly traced his fingers across Owain's cheek, "Captivating eyes," he locked gazes with Owain's curious blue orbs. "Gentle lips…"

Before either of the boys knew it their lips had collided together in a rush of heat, smell of smoke and crumbs of toast. Neither of them actually registering what they were doing, they blindly grabbed at each other, turning their embrace into an almost-hug, lips still entwined. Neither had any idea what they were doing, or more importantly _why_ they were doing it, but both knew it felt amazing and wrong at the same time, and the adrenaline rush of it all was to die for.

Finally catching on to what he was doing, Owain leapt away from his brother, realising what had just happened. Alastair blinked a few times, as if wondering if he was about to wake up from some sort of perverted nightmare. He just stared at Owain in apologetic shock when he realised that there was no waking up to be done, as he was already awake.

"O-Owain… I-I didn't m-mean… T-that was weird. And wrong. And it's not happening again." Alastair coughed, blushing and slowly backing off from his brother.

"What're you talking about, Alastair?" Owain blinked innocently, "Nothing happened, right?"

Catching on immediately to Owain's plan, Alastair didn't need telling on where to go, "You're right. Let's go – we're gunna be late, right?"

Grinning and nodding, though feeling very, very weird on the inside, Owain skipped after his brother, throwing on a coat before they flew out of the door. Pretending like nothing happened would be the best thing to do, and the easiest way out of it, though Owain knew that sooner or later if he ever wanted to erase the tension that would inevitably inhabit every room Alastair and he shared, they'd have to talk it over.

* * *

"Hurry up you two, you're late, idiots!" Arthur called as he saw his two brothers hurrying to the bus stop, "Now we'll have to wait another ten minutes because of you two twats, because the bus just left, and Matthew insisted that 'it wouldn't be the same without you.'."

"Arthur, don't be mean." Colin scolded jokingly, grinning to Shane.

"Alastair probably went to go and steal that infamous dragon-costume of Francis' to see Owain in it!" Shane grinned back at his brother, innocent to the irony his accusation held.

Letting off a stream of swear words and hurtful sentences, Alastair pierced Shane's emerald eyes with his own, sharper-than-daggers gaze. Owain did nothing to prevent his Scottish brother from saying these things, which was quite odd, and even added in his own curse words to the mix.

"A-anyway…" Matthew said, smiling awkwardly "Is everyone here?"

'Everyone' was an awful lot of people. Matthew had gone a little mad on the invitation front – he had no idea all of them would actually _turn up_. He didn't even know how some of them knew his name! There was of course Matthew and Carlos – Carlos had dragged along his roommate, Jett Roberts, an Australian boy, while Matthew had asked Francis and Gilbert, causing Antonio and Lovino to join in. Feliciano and Ludwig were already going to visit Kiku, so decided to go with the rest of them. Alfred and Arthur had tagged along, bringing with them the twins, and now the addition of Owain and Alastair. All in all, when the bus finally arrived they took up over half of the vacant seats, causing old women to glare at them for their 'rowdy disturbance'.

The destination of their travels was Constantine Bay, the beach Matthew had gone on a trip with Francis and co. last weekend. Constantine Bay was one of those rare little beaches that, on the right day it would be as clear and perfect as a Tropical Bay out in the middle of the Indian Ocean. The best part was hardly anyone knew about such a perfect beach, and ignored Padstow and the area around it – if any Brit were to go on holiday it'd either be abroad (who'd want to spend their time in their dismal, rain-covered country?) or, if they'd been affected by the recession it would _have _to be the very bottom of Cornwall, Land's End, where, logically it should be hottest as it was closest to Spain.

But, all of the ignorant tourists had done their research, and none knew that the spot for nice beaches _and_ nice weather was humble little Padstow, just south of Cardiff, separated by a little channel of water. The boys felt so triumphant – after years of living here, they had developed a weird technique to tell what was a 'perfect beach day' in their words. Not too hot, not too cold. Not too windy, not too rainy. Just perfect! And lucky enough for them today was one of those beach days.

Half an hour later, the bus pulled up outside its stop, the doors sliding open and the engine still on – the hint the driver always pulled when he wanted you to _get the hell off his bus – _and that's exactly what the boys did. After being gentlemen and letting the old ladies off first (Francis even held one's hand and lifted her down the step. She didn't appreciate his help and took it to be patronising) and once the women were clean out of sight they shouted a thanks to the driver and were already racing towards the sand dunes, some were already barefoot.

"Awesome! I've never been to a British beach!" Alfred grinned, rolling around in the long, grassy sand dunes, "Not very warm, is it?"

"Ah, _mon cher_, you do not understand the logic of the bipolar British Beaches do you?" Francis purred, "You see, they are very cold in the morning, until about one o'clock, when the sun is highest in the sky, then it gets warmer, so you might get chance to take off your hoodie! You should've been here last year though… Oh the heat! I heard it was hotter than Florida!"

"Whatever, whatever Frenchie." Alfred pouted, not liking the idea of Britain beating Florida in temperature. If that happened, then global warming must really be taking effect, and that was a creepy thought.

"Let's play hide and seek!" Feliciano called, happily floating over and completely forgetting about his promise to Kiku to meet him on the shore line to help his parents set up their festival stalls, "The sand dunes are covered with really, really tall grass, right? It'll be perfect for hiding in!"

"No. We are not playing hide and seek again. We were forced into such childish affairs last week, and I do not plan on experiencing such… embarrassing hiding places again." Arthur pouted, turning his back.

"Seconded." Came the agreement of each of the Kirkland brothers.

"Aww, you're just scared you'll loose again!" Jeered Antonio, the winner of the previous game. Usually he didn't like gloating at achievements (if you could call winning a game of hide and seek an achievement…) but he _loved_ aggravating Arthur and hid brothers. Though Alastair was awesome… at times. And Owain was nice to Lovino and Antonio… and the twins _did_ make him laugh. Okay, so it was only Arthur he really didn't like, but whatever! No time to sweat about details.

"I do not care about such a childish game!" Arthur cried, though deep down he was _very_ annoyed that the Spaniard and his Italian sidekick had beaten himself and Alfred.

"Well now we can have _another_ match, and whoever wins that is the winner of the hide and seek crown!" Feliciano threw his hands up in celebration, trying to promote his rather logical idea. Both Antonio and Arthur looked very tempted to agree, until they were interrupted by Ludwig.

"Feliciano! I thought the purpose of this trip was to help Kiku set up for tonight – as for you two idiots!" The annoyed German glared at Antonio and Arthur, "It's not up to me what you do in your spare time, but I can assure you there are more important things than winning a game of hide and seek."

After a moment of pause, thinking about what the muscular German had said, Arthur and Antonio locked gazes, sharing the same expression of gormless understanding. "Ludwig – you're right. Sorry for our childish fighting." Arthur looked down at the floor.

"We'll have a swimming race instead! You know I can beat you at swimming Arthur, I've had warm Spanish seas to practice in – you've just had grey pools of freezing cold water!"

"Good job we'll be swimming in 'grey pools of freezing cold water', you Spanish bastard! I hope you freeze and drown to death!"

"Game on, eyebrow bastard!"

And with that, the two idiots were racing toward the sea, shredding off items of clothing as they ran, despite the low (hopefully soon to ascend) temperature.

"Those two bastards…" Lovino dragged a palm down his face in frustration, "They're complete _idiots._ What are they fucking _doing_….?" With a growl of frustration, the annoyed little Italian began his pursuit of the two, who were now already in the water and swimming towards a little cavern of rocks, "They're both going to _fucking drown_. Of course it's _me_ that has to go and save them. I don't even fucking _like_ that English freak! And Antonio's a fucking retard."

Despite his 'hatred' for the two idiots (it was actually admiration, but Lovino couldn't even admit that to himself) he was racing down the sea shore, towards the grey waves.

Sighing heavily and placing himself on a rock, Alastair fished out the porn magazine he always kept with him, flipping through it idly. He was about to reach into his coat for a cigarette, but with a jolt remembered they were in the bin back at home. He smiled despite of himself, remembering Owain's words of concern for his help. That boy really was too good for him. But what worried Alastair the most was the big question '_what will happen after that stupid kiss this morning…?'_

Owain was also troubled by such thoughts. He'd accepted Feliciano's animated invitation to go and help Kiku and his parents set up, so followed happily, just observing the sexual tension between Feliciano and Ludwig (they were the only two people in the school that didn't know about the feelings one had for the other. They were so clueless!) While buried deep in his thoughts. He'd have to talk to Alastair, and sooner rather than later. They could sort this out… surely?

"Kiku! Kiku, Kiku, Kiku!" Feliciano sang upon seeing the third member of their little friendship group, "Hey!"

Nodding in welcome, and bowing formally Kiku smiled gently, "Feliciano-san, Ludwig-san, Owain-san – I hope you had a pleasant journey."

Not entirely sure whether to bow in reply, the three boys decided to just grin awkwardly, "I trust you still need a hand setting up?" Ludwig questioned formally.

"Ah! Eh, yes, if that is no trouble to you – I mean I wouldn't want you to be wasting your time, my mother and father are almost finished, you can go and wait if you wish, I do not mean to be the cause of any problems!" Kiku panicked, now terribly flustered and worried that he was sounding rude.

Feliciano grinned, flapping his arms, "It's okay, Kiku! We're your friend, right? Friends like helping other friends!"

"Y-yes… I suppose you are correct, Feliciano-san. I am sorry for making a fuss, please, come this way." Kiku smiled at the three boys, beckoning them over to the rocky edges of the cove, in a more sheltered area where there were quite a few Asians running around, and the makings of a festival in front of them.

"Woah! You made all this in an hour?" Ludwig's eyes widened, "That's impressive!"

"Well it wasn't all my work, of course, no, no, my parents are distantly related to Wang-Kyoju and Wan-sensei, and so they are helping out too. Even Kaoru-san and Peter-san have lent a hand; it has been well appreciated by my parents." Kiku explained humbly.

"Let's get to work, then!" Owain smiled, "The sooner we get this done, then the sooner we get ice cream with Matthew!"

With cries of agreement and spurred on by the thought of the creamy frozen substance melting in their mouths, the four boys flung into action, working even harder than the adults.

* * *

Within the first hour of arriving at the beach, everyone had spilt up into groups – there were the helpful Axis with the addition of Owain, the racing duo of Antonio and Arthur, with Lovino supervising, then you had the three left over Kirkland brothers, who were generally causing mischief. There was the Bad Touch Trio, minus Antonio, so really just Francis and Gilbert strewn over a rock and complaining about the weather, and finally there was Jett, Carlos, Matthew, and somehow Alfred, who'd christened themselves 'the ice cream quartet'.

Alfred had many more places where he wanted to be than sitting in the sand dunes, looking out at the bay while eating ice cream with a Cuban that didn't like him, a silent Canadian and a very mysterious Australian. He was worried about Arthur being stuck with Lovino and Antonio, he was cold, and rather puzzled why Alastair and Owain were acting so odd, and almost ignoring each other.

Deciding to shrug it off and find a way to excuse himself from the awkward silence that he felt he was causing with his 'ice-cream-tasting-buddies', Alfred took a deep breath and a final mouthful of the admittedly delicious ice cream, turning to the three, "Right, you guys, I think I'd better go and check up on Arthur, y'know? You never know, he might've drowned or something… Or Antonio might be the one drowning him…" He laughed awkwardly, trying to ignore the creepy grin that'd appeared on Jett's face at the mention of Arthur's hypothetical death.

"Be careful. His eyebrows are contagious." Carlos warned. That the first thing he'd said to the American all morning, apart from little grunts and nods. He pointed up to his own slightly bushy eyebrows, and then over to Jett's equally bushy eyebrows, both of which had a Kirkland-esque look about them, though not as bushy.

"I-I'll be careful…?" Alfred suggested weakly, before turning to run toward the shore, panting heavily and wanting to whoop out in joy that he'd finally escaped the crushing tension. "Man that was creepy."

As he was running, he didn't notice a sprawled out Albino on the sand, which he almost tripped over. Luckily for Gilbert's sake, he'd seen the American coming and rolled out of the way. Unluckily for Alfred, Gilbert didn't appreciate almost getting trampled on, so waited for the American to pass, and swiftly grabbed hold of his ankle, causing the boy to fall down to the ground and land with a terrific clatter against the damp sand.

"Fucking _hell_, Gilbert – that _hurt!"_ Alfred rolled over, quickly poking a finger in the Albino's face, not happy about being pulled to the floor in such a violent manner.

"Man up, Jones!" Gilbert grinned, "Besides, you almost trampled on the Awesome Me, and that is simply not acceptable. You deserved to be punished."

"Punishment my ass! That was abuse!" Alfred pouted melodramatically, folding his arms.

"But seriously." Gilbert cut off Alfred's complaints in a darker tone, and then pointed over to Alastair, who was lounging on a nearby rock, "What the fuck is up with him?"

Narrowing his eyes and raising an eyebrow in question, Alfred grinned, "You're friends with Alastair?"

Falling over in a mock-faint, Gilbert called from the floor, "What're you talking about? Awesome Me and Awesome Al have been best friends for awesome-ever."

Alfred decided not to question what 'awesome-ever' was, and just went along with Gilbert's confusing sentences, "I have no idea, but I noticed it too… Bet you anything it has something to do with…"

"…Owain." The two finished together, nodding in agreement, before Alfred continued, "They seem kinda… reserved with each other, don't they?"

Gilbert nodded enthusiastically, "Like something's happened that neither of them are comfortable about?"

"Exactly." Alfred nodded, before grinning, "Wanna go find out what?"

Before Gilbert could reply in obvious agreement, Francis popped up from behind a rock, "Who mentioned _mon petite Owain_~?"

"Stay out of it, Frenchie, go molest Matthew! You had your chance with Owain, and you blew it!" Gilbert stuck out his tongue at his friend, "Unless we could use you to go and fish for information…"

"Leave it to me, _mon cher!_" Francis said happily, glad he could be a help.

"God help us, I just asked _him_ for _help_…" Gilbert groaned, just realising what he'd bought himself into, "No molesting!"

"_Oui, oui, compris mon commandan_t_~" _The French boy sung, already making his way to where he knew innocent little Owain and his information lay.

**A/N**

**Ahh, okay I lied XD this isn't the chapter I was looking forward to XD I thought it would be, but then I realised that I needed to set the scene for it XD so possibly next chapter and/or the chapter after that! :D Yay!**

**Not much to say this time :D all that at the end, Francis says 'Yes, yes, understood commander', and that this is as far as I'm going with the Owain/Alastair incest~ whether that be for the best or the worst you can decided XD but yeah, nothing's coming out of it :) so either 'your welcome' or, 'I'm sorry' X'D  
Thank you very much if you've reviewed! I love you so much, and if you enjoyed this chapter, then I encourage you GREATLY to press that little button with 'review' on, because you have no idea how much power it holds! X'D Thank you again for reading, I love you guys :3  
And finally – THE HALF-TERM HOLIDAY HAS ARRIVED! So hopefully I'll be writing more ^^ (famous last words!)  
Au revoir, lovelies! **


	11. Seriously now, what is going on?

**Chapter eleven – Seriously now, what is going on?**

**(Warnings – There's sexual themes, and cross dressing :3 if ya don't agree, I'm very sorry DX)**

Arthur wasn't enjoying himself at all.

First of all, he'd lost his swimming race with Antonio. It was the simple problem that halfway through their race in the sea, Arthur remembered about his fear of swallowing salt water – a terror of his that occurred when he was a young boy and swimming with the ocean with his brothers and having a water fight.

Second, he was soaking and freezing, and forced to wait for someone to come and rescue him from inside the cave he'd taken shelter in along with Antonio and Lovino. They were the third and most annoying problem. Not only did he despise the company of both of them _alone_, let alone _together_, they were also having one of their rare 'bonding' moments.

It was common knowledge throughout Padstow that Lovino and Antonio's relationship was by no means a simple one. On the contrary, it could beat the storyline of most soaps in Arthur's opinion – no one knew what was happening with them, why it was happening, and more importantly if they were dating or not. Just last week, Arthur had heard the news that Antonio was _finally_ getting through to Lovino's soft, gooey, Italian side, and that it _actually_ might work for them this time. It was only two hours later that Arthur heard from Francis that Antonio had attempted to kiss Lovino on the cheek, resulting in Antonio being rushed to the nurse's office, the head being notified about Lovino's 'violent behaviour', and many, many swear words were said.

So to stumble upon Lovino and Antonio on those rare moments where they were demonstrating their 'undying love' for each other was rather a rare one. You could think of it in two ways – the optimistic one that you must be blessed by the Gods to witness such an uncommon event – or the pessimistic one, that the Gods must really, really hate you.

Of course, Arthur had no doubt at all that the God's must really, really hate him.

Said 'romantic couple' were currently eating each other's mouths out, making rather erotic noises along the way. Their shirts were hanging open, and Arthur was a little afraid to peek, but was pretty sure that the zip to Antonio's bright orange shorts was unzipped, and Lovino's hands were hovering around that particular area. There were many dirty things said, but, thank the heavens, most were in Italian or Spanish, two languages Arthur refused to learn for his own purposes.

Trying his best to ignore the two, Arthur squished himself further into the corner he'd placed himself into, the furthest point away from the two perverts he was trapped with. If it wasn't for his fear of saltwater (which he'd only just remembered…) then he'd have swam back to the shore right now, but the thought of swallowing such a salty, revolting substance made Arthur's stomach churn, and he decided that it was an awful lot worse than being stuck with these two.

_ Hurry up, Alfred_… Arthur begged the American mentally for him to hurry up on his 'hero rescue mission' as he'd have likely christened it.

Wait.

Why the hell was he asking for _Alfred's_ help?

Okay they were friends, but why assume that _Alfred_ would be the one to help him?

_Because he's your best, and well _only_ friend…_ That little honest voice whispered to Arthur, making him grit his teeth in annoyance. He was stronger than that! He'd relied on no one his entire life, so why start now? Just because Alfred was his friend, did _not_ mean that he'd wait for him for everything.

That did get the Brit's mind wondering a little, though. Over the past few months, everyone around him had come out with rather drastic realisations, and had quite literally _come out_. With so many of his classmates declaring their love for their own gender, naturally the thought had entered Arthur's mind – what if he liked guys?

Not that there'd be much of a problem with it. Well, his dad wouldn't approve, but he knew the majority of people wouldn't take the piss out of him for it. On the contrary, some people, Miss Héderváry being a prime example, would be overjoyed and congratulate him on his honesty, and would even sit down next to him in form and talk about how handsome Mr Edelstein was. He'd seen it happen to many a student, poor Owain being one of them.

He'd pictured himself with loads of guys; some images made him want to puke like that one of him and Francis that had abundantly entered his mind out of his will; others confused him a little, for instance pairing himself with Ludwig, Feliciano or Kiku; there were ones that made his blood boil, when paired with Lovino, Antonio or Gilbert; and even some that made him giggle at the stupidity of it, like pairing himself with one of his brothers, or Matthew.

The only image that had made his heart skip a beat and his face flush with… _something_… was none other than that stupid American.

But _why?_ Why did Alfred F. Jones make his heart jump, his chest burn, and his brain shutdown? There was nothing different about him than the others… unless Arthur could assume that this was what friendship really was. He couldn't be ignorant – he knew nothing about the status of 'friendship', that was all he could assume it was. This was what having a friend was like.

For some reason, though, Arthur had to be difficult. No matter how many times he tried to convince himself that this feeling was that of no more than a friendship, and this was what he'd been missing out on all his life, his heart just wouldn't believe him. It was that soft, cute little girly voice inside him, the one that always told him the right answer – his bloody conscience.

Shaking his head in defeat, Arthur gave up on attempting to sort out the mess of feelings inside of him. No wonder he hadn't attempted to make friends all his life – they were so much hassle!  
_But they _are_ worth it…_ There it was again! His stupid conscience whispering that soppy stuff into his ear! That's what was making him soft!

But yes, he did have to agree with his conscience – friends were defiantly worth it.

"L-Lovino…!" A cry from the perverted Spaniard snapped the Brit from his thoughts, snapping his head up against his will. He really, _really_ wished he hadn't looked.

It seemed Antonio and Lovino had completely forgotten about Arthur's presence in the cave, or at least he hoped they had, otherwise they really _were_ perverts. Arthur didn't particularly want to describe the scene in front of him one bit, but it involved both Antonio and Lovino to be crying out perverted things in perverted cries of pleasure. Arthur shut his eyes tight, rubbing his eye lids as if to try and erase the image from his memory for good.

Five minutes later, Antonio and Lovino had finally stopped in their dirty actions, and were lying on the floor of the cave, covered only by Antonio's flowery shit, and holding hands. Arthur had to admit, that if they were given some clothes and… err… cleaned up a bit (he blushed at this) they would look close to adorable. Their sleeping faces looked so at peace – Lovino had never looked more like his brother in his entire life. Despite himself, he realised a very small smile had emerged on his face.

Trying his best to keep his mouth straight and in its usual poker-face status, Arthur buried his face into his knees, hoping that someone would notice his absence soon. If worst came to _absolute _worst then there might be a _chance _he could brave the salty waters, but only as a very last resort. He'd wait until then.

Luckily for Arthur, the Gods seemed to feel bad for putting him through the pain of having to watch Lovino and Antonio previously, so they sent their payment in the form of a perky American in a dingy. Arthur never thought he'd be so happy to see blue eyes and blow-up boats together.

"Alfred! Oh thank _God_, I knew you'd come and rescue me!" Arthur smiled, flinging himself on the boy once he climbed out of the little boat and into the cave. Alfred grinned, greeting him in reply, and raising his eyebrow at Lovino and Antonio in their current state.

"What happened with those two?" Alfred wondered aloud, "Lovino looks… happy." He turned to Arthur, looking suspicious, "What did you do with the real Lovino?"

Giggling despite of himself, Arthur couldn't help but throw his arms around Alfred's middle, a stupid grin on his face, "It's not even _funny_, I don't know why I'm laughing!"

"Now, Artie, as good as it is to see you laughing, I don't think either of us would be laughing if we wake Lovino up…" Alfred grinned down, ruffling Arthur's hair in an almost patronising way (not that Arthur minded) "C'mon~ I even brought transport! Alastair warned me about your 'fear of saltwater that you always forget about'."

"Wow… You're being… mature." Arthur's eyes winded slightly while climbing into the makeshift boat along with Alfred.

"Aha~ I wouldn't say that! I was just worried about you!" Alfred grinned at his friend.

Blushing, Arthur looked at the blow-up rubber floor, "T-Thank you, but you really don't have to worry about me, you know."

"But if there was no one to worry about you then you'd get into all sorts of trouble, Artie!" Alfred pointed out, smiling, "And I'm sure you worry about me, so it goes both ways, yeah?"

"Yeah." Arthur nodded, grinning, while helping to row the boat back to shore.

* * *

The day, as everyone had promised, did indeed warm up when it came to one o'clock. Freakishly close, if you asked Alfred. The rings from the nearby clock tower of the town rang out it's powerful bells, and within five minutes, the clouds cleared, and everyone came from huddling up in their holidays to walking around topless in nothing but speedos, or in Francis' case, nothing at all.

The preparations for the upcoming festival had been completed, leaving Owain, Kiku, Feliciano and Ludwig all free to do what they wanted for a few hours. The festival was scheduled to be 'officially open' at six o'clock, so it would neatly co-inside with the dinner rush-hour. Mr and Mrs Honda, Kiku's parents were in charge of their own little café-type thing, that they'd strategically placed right next to a neat, cute little collection of rock pools. They realised, however only upon finishing that, although they'd remembered everything from pots to stoves to woks to uniforms, they'd completely forgotten that they would need at least one waiter. Seeing as all the other adults were busy minding their own stalls, and they would be busy making the food, they had no choice but to turn to their son once again.

"Kiku!" Mrs. Honda beckoned her son over, while politely waving back at cute little Feliciano, who was walking with her son, "Kiku, I feel terrible about asking you to do this, but could you lend a hand later tonight? Your father and I were too wrapped up in petty matters to remember to employ staff… So could you be a make-shift waiter for a night?"

Smiling, Kiku nodded, "Of course, Mother."

"And…" She continued, lowering her voice drastically while looking at the floor in shame, "Could you perhaps… ask your friends? I know it goes against every good manner I've ever taught you, but we _are_ in a bit of a tight spot. Tell them we'll pay them their fair share, too!"

Before Kiku could reply in a diplomatic response, Feliciano who was standing behind him – and heard everything – piped up happily.

"Not to worry, Mrs. Honda! We can help out! Ludwig and Owain will do it, I think, and I bet you my big brother will too if I ask him nicely enough! And we'll do it for free!" Feliciano sung happily, dancing about.

"Vargas-san, I don't think I could let you work for me as a volunteer! I appreciate your kindness, but really, it is too kind." Mrs. Honda bowed formally, sounding slightly flustered.

"It's Feliciano~! Man, you and Kiku are really alike! It took me weeks to get him to call me by my first name, and he still won't stop adding '-san'~ not that it bothers me!" Feliciano giggled.

"Very well, Feliciano-san…" Mrs. Honda seemed to stumble over the name, "I insist on paying you, but if you so wish, you and your friends can come here tonight! We start work at six, and I'll let you go at eight – I'm sure we'll be able to manage after that. Thank you very much for your help, and I look forward to working with you." The woman bowed again.

Grinning, Feliciano bowed his head in a rare moment of respect too, smiling and waving, he tugged Kiku's arm (who was calling a departing message to mother) and flew down the beach.

"Yay! I've always wanted to be a waiter!" Feliciano waved his arms about, "D'ya think Ludwig will be mad I signed him up…?"

"I'm sure he'll be… happy in his own way…" Kiku said diplomatically.

"Well, that's great isn't it?" Feliciano jumped about, "Let's go tell him!"

* * *

The day passed quickly for every single boy at Constance Bay that day. Most found it was because they were enjoying themselves playing in the water, eating ice cream and generally being kids again. It was a while before Lovino and Antonio woke up from their siesta, both in a good mood after having such a peaceful sleep after such blissful pleasure. Matthew had _finally _got conversation going with Carlos and Jett, and all three of them found out they had a mutual admiration for beaches, all loved ice cream and other sea-side confections, loved eating outdoors, and as a general rule hated all English and Americans.

Francis was having a lovely midday, strolling around the beach completely naked, as I said before, only to be pummelled to the ground by Arthur when the Brit laid eyes on him after his little boat-trip with Alfred.

"Wear some God forsaken _clothes!"_ Arthur practically screamed at the French boy who he happened to be sitting on, punching him in between each word, "This isn't a pervert's beach!"

"I got it, I got it! Just mind the face, will you?" Francis growled at the smaller boy – luckily for him, Arthur right hook wasn't exactly super-fighting standard, and didn't really hurt, but one after another they did get a little irritating.

"Clothes! Alfred, go and find something for this idiot to wear!"

"Got it!"

Alfred returned five minutes later holding two possible outfits he'd found for Francis. Both of them happened to be geared towards the female audience of the clothing market.

"Oh_ non, non, non, _you see, _mon cher,_ I enjoy watching boys in girl's clothes, but by no means does that mean that I wear them myself." Francis said, batting his eyelashes innocently.

"Well what do I do with these?" Alfred sighed in despair, looking at the maid outfit and the bunny girl costume with sadness in his eyes, "There are no girls around here, and I don't want to throw them away – it'd be such a waste!"

"Why don't you give them back to whomever you borrowed them off?" Arthur sighed, who on _earth_ would have a maid outfit and a bunny girl costume with them on a _beach?_

"Mrs. Honda gave them to me; I have no idea why she had them, like… But I think it'd be rude to give them back, y'know? I dunno, but it seems Kiku and his family are so hung up on rules and manners. I don't want to offend 'em!" Alfred fretted, waving the costumes about dramatically.

After a pause of thought, Francis lifted the costumes up out of the American's arms, checking the size and letting out a stream of 'ohonhonhons~' upon seeing the exact number he wanted to see, "Oh, dear Alfred, I have a very good plan on what to do with these… You'll have to wait until later to find out what it is~ but if I were you, I'd head over the Mr and Mrs Honda's little café that's open later on, I'm sure it'll be… beneficial. Bring a camera!"

Completely clueless to Francis' plan, both Alfred and Arthur stared after him in confusion. "Don't worry, dear Arthur, I'm putting on my clothes from before now!" He called behind them, running off to his rock.

"He is one weird-ass Frenchie."

"Seconded."

* * *

The afternoon flew past as quick as the morning did, and before they knew it, it was six o'clock. The sun was low in the sky, not quite setting yet, but it would be in an hour or two. The smell of Asian mixed with European food (it smelled surprisingly appetising) filled the air, drawing the boys and other members of the public towards the little festival of lights in the cove of the beach. Alfred had lost Arthur somehow – apparently he was needed elsewhere according to Gilbert, so he'd ended up following Matthew about – luckily for Alfred, Jett and Carlos had decided that they'd eaten a little _too_ much ice cream, and didn't want the temptation of food around them, so were hanging around on the rocks nearest the sea.

"Man, this is… lively!" Matthew grinned, talking in his quiet voice like always, "There are so many people! And girls – _Alfred there are girls. It has been so long since I've seen a female that's not related to me...!"_

A little worried about how desperate and downright creepy Matthew sounded, Alfred giggled nervously, helping his friend stand up properly, "C'mon Matthew, you know one-night stands aren't good!"

"A-Alfred! I-I-I!" Matthew stuttered, "I do _not_ want a one night stand, thank you very much! I'm thirteen, for God's sake! I'm still a virgin!" He whispered the last word, "I just mean… I was starting to think that men had created an image of heaven in their heads, and girls were actually just legends. Boys schools suck, especially in a town like Padstow where all the girls are _never around_ for some reason…"

"Well, let's go and marvel God's blessing of the female, shall we?" Alfred nudged his friend, winking.

"Of course!"

So that's exactly what the two boys did. They wondered about, massive grins on their faces as they passed classmates (who they pointedly ignored) and kept their eyes fixed on the groups of girls that passed them. There was a group of three girls that particularly caught Matthew and Alfred's attention.

The group consisted of three girls. There was the smallest, a cute looking girl with her blonde hair tied back into messy pigtails, her green eyes sparkling behind battered-looking glasses. Alfred looked at her twice, narrowing his eyes at her eyebrows, that made the question arise '_She's a Kirkland…?'_ but quickly shook it off – she probably just didn't have time to wax them.

The second girl in the group was another blonde, in very French looking clothes that were rather vibrant. She was talking to the shorter girl with an annoyed, very French tone, while flicking her wavy locks behind her shoulders.

The last girl, who was _again_ blonde, was standing watching the two with a very amused look on her face. She was laughing along with a twang that Alfred missed with his whole heart, and could recognise it from a mile off! She was a fellow American! And a rather sexy looking one at that! She was wearing a tank top that highlighted her curves perfectly, with a bomber jacket almost identical to Alfred's over the top. The skirt she was wearing was short, and showed off her perfect legs and bare feet. Alfred couldn't control himself! An American!

"You! You're from America!" He ran over, grinning, forgetting completely about Matthew.

Looking up at the familiar accent, the girl grinned, holding up her hand in welcome, "That's me – I can tell from your accent you're as equal an American as me?"

"I MISS YOU ALL SO MUCH!" Alfred practically exploded, throwing his arms around his fellow citizen.

"Woah there, calm down!" She laughed, wrestling him off her, "Emily Jones! Nice to meet you!"

"Alfred F. Jones! Hah, common surname, right?" Alfred winked, shaking her hand, "Man it's been a long time since I've heard an accent like yours… Well, only three weeks, but that's still a long time!"

Nodding in understanding, Emily continued, "Yes, yes, I know you're pain. I've been here three years and I still miss home. But hey! England's awesome too! This here is Elizabeth," Emily signalled to the pig-tailed eyebrow girl, who just glared, "And this is Francesca!" The French girl greeted him in her native language.

"Not another _bloody_ American! I thought I'd die with just one of them, but now you're telling me I've got to deal with _another_ one?" Elizabeth growled under her breath.

"Now, now, Lizzy, who says dear Alfred here, will be paying any attention to _you_ and your scrawny little pigtails. I wouldn't be so self-flattering; it seems this boy has eyes for Emily only." Francesca drawled, grinning at Alfred, who blushed heatedly.

"Aww, c'mon, Alfred's just happy to see another American, right Alfred?" Emily shoved his shoulder in a boyish fashion, grinning at him.

"Yup! Besides, Lizzy, you're pretty cute, anyway!" Alfred smiled, giggling internally as he saw Elizabeth's face gain more and more heat.

"_It's Elizabeth to you, God damn it!"_ She shouted, "And I have no taste for Americans! None whatsoever!"

"Sure, sure!" Alfred giggled, patting her head, "Man, you remind me of Arthur…"

At that, Elizabeth's eyes widened, eyes sparkling dangerously, "Arthur? Arthur Kirkland? Small? Big eyebrows? Has a slutty mother and five brothers?"

"Well… I wouldn't quite phrase it like that…" Alfred looked at the floor awkwardly, "But yeah, that's him!"

"That _bastard! _Tell me where the hell him and his good for nothing Scottish brother have got to! I need a bloody word or two with him! Where is he, god damn it!" Elizabeth began cursing her fair share of swear words, directing her anger at Alfred.

"Oh hon~ wondering why little Lizzie has such a hatred for that British scum?" Francesca grinned, whispering the words seductively into Alfred's ear, "You see, my lovely, last year Elizabeth here was dating Alastair, but not only did he shatter her heart when they broke up, but the day after, Elizabetha confessed her feelings for Arthur. Alastair overheard, and decided to get all 'Scottish big brother' about things, and the two brothers chased her out of the school grounds, complaining on how they stole their trademark eyebrows."

"Ehh… What?" Alfred narrowed his eyes in confusion.

"Such a sad story! I know, I know!" Francesca mock fainted, landing on the American's back, before realising they were missing someone, "Hey, where'd Emily go?"

"Where's Matthew?" Alfred suddenly remembered about his Canadian accomplice who'd also disappeared.

Before the three could search for their lost friends, there was a little scene of commotion just to the right of them, near the little pile of rock pools and the Honda's café. Ludwig, Feliciano and Kiku were in their waistcoats, supplied by Mrs. Honda's 'bag of costumes' (it was also where Alfred had come across the maid and bunny outfit) but that wasn't the problem. The problem was the noise coming out from behind a nearby rock.

"_Francis!_ Let _go_ of me, you filthy frog! I will not be seen in such… perverted clothes!"

"Oh hon, how rude of you to insult Mrs Honda's clothes in such a way!"

"I-I didn't mean it like that…!"

"No, Arthur, you're right to call them perverted. This is downright _weird._ We cannot be seen like this! Francis, get _off_ me you complete freak!" Owain's voice joined in.

"Francis, I couldn't care less what you make me wear, but you can get your dirty hands off my _fucking brother_." Alastair was growling.

"Antonio. Antonio. Where the hell am I. Why am I waking up in your arms, and what the actual fuck am I wearing?" _Lovino_ was there too!

"Don't worry, Lovi, it's cute!" you could hear the smile in Antonio's voice.

"Now, now, my pretty little fashion models, lets show off Mrs Honda's lovely clothing range, shall we?" Francis was giggling menacingly, ignoring the shouts of protest.

Luckily for Alfred and the rest of the people shamelessly eavesdropping on the boys behind the rock (It was impossible _not_ to eavesdrop – they were so loud!) the boys came flocking out in a little line, being forced by Francis, Antonio and Gilbert behind them. The crowd stared at the hotly blushing boys for a minute, and simultaneously burst into fits of laughter.

_Now_ Alfred understood what Francis had done with the maid outfit and the bunny costume.

Before the crowd lay the sight of Alastair, Owain, Arthur and Lovino all red faced, looking like they were about to scream. Each and every one of them was wearing something that they'd obviously been forced into. Alastair, the poor guy, was wearing a little devil costume set, something that had indeed been designed for women, as it was low cut on the chest, too small on the waist, and you could see his Scottish-flag underwear under the 'skirt' (it was actually just a piece of black lycra) and black fishnet tights. Francis had even decked him out with high heels!

Poor Owain was next, and had been forced into the maid outfit Alfred had been holding earlier. He had to admit, somehow it actually _suited_ the shaking Welsh boy, and Francis had gone so far as to clip his hair out of his eyes, add in little bows, and a garter around his left thigh. He could have passed as a girl, if it wasn't for his complaints in any language he could remember about how much he hated being called a girl.

Lovino was a sight for sore eyes, as the bunny outfit had been assigned to him. It fitted him perfectly, and even the chest areas where girls were meant to have more flesh to fill the gaps hugged him perfectly. He too was wearing fishnet tights, identical to Alastair's, along with the same shiny black heels. His ears were shaking adorably on his head, showing just how annoyed and positively terrified he was to be seen in such a costume.

And last, and worst off, was poor Arthur. He looked embarrassed to the point of tears, wearing angelic-like robes that barely covered his _torso_. He was the only one wearing male-targeted clothing, but the costume was to skimpy and small you wouldn't be able to tell what gender it was intended for. He was equipped out with little wings, and bows and ribbons galore. The costume was teeny, and by the looks of things he wasn't wearing all too much underneath, as you could, like with Alastair, see his English-flag themed underpants poking out under the robes.

"Now, now, everyone! Don't you just love Big Brother Francis for doing this?" Francis winked, "It would have been impossible without my lovely assistants Gilbert and Antonio!" the two waved in turn, winking very gaily.

"He blackmailed us! We're not doing this out of our own will!" Owain cried hysterically, burying his face into Alastair's chest as the flashing of cameras begun.

"Antonio…" Lovino growled, looking positively deadly, "You. Will. Wake. Up. In. The. Afterlife."

"A-Alfred! Help me for God's sake!" Arthur called helplessly, "Who's that with you…? Oh fuck. Oh hell, oh hell, oh hell."

"Aha! Arthur Kirkland caught in such kinky clothes! This will _never_ get old, I'm very sure your mother would like to hear about this! And what would your _father_ say, Arthur? As for _you_ Alastair, I don't know how you'll ever live it down! Both of you, you make such good sluts, just like your mother!" Elizabeth cackled evilly, exchanging triumphant glances with Francesca beside her.

"Elizabeth!" Alastair blinked a few times, "Ah shit."

Alfred was biting his lips to hold back giggles, but they were slipping out – along with the actual image of seeing his friends and classmates in such hysterical clothes, there was the look on Kiku and his mother's face that made it that little bit more hilarious – it was like a mix of shock and glee all in one expression, and everyone saw them when they sneakily took photos.

Turning his head to try and see more of the amazing expressions and reactions the crowd was sharing, Alfred did a 360º turn, scouring the whole beach, and cursing as he forgot his camera. But then, something caught his eye. A couple huddled over on the quieter side of the beach, two people he never thought he'd see.

Matthew and Emily were there in the middle of the sand, sucking each other's faces off!

Alfred really didn't know what was going on. Matthew was getting off with a girl (Matthew was straight…?) while Arthur and the others were wearing such hilarious costumes! What parallel universe had he been throw into? And how the fuck did he get home?

Alfred really didn't know what was going on. Matthew was getting off with a girl (Matthew was straight…?) while Arthur and the others were wearing such hilarious costumes! What parallel universe had he been throw into? And how the fuck did he get home?

**A/N**

**Oh my god X'D that was fun! And that wasn't even the chapter I was looking forward to! X'D hell! I love this!**

**First of all, to _Detima1, _thank you for pointing out that translation error! I'm stuck with my very, very limited French Vocabulary, and the crappy google translate, so if anyone sees any translation error, please point it out! I won't be offended one bit, on the contrary, I'll be very happy!**

**So yes! Long chapter! Love it X3 but yes~ Don't panic, the Nyotailiad charas aren't sticking around for long, probably just the next few chapters and one or two in the future! They're just there to move the plot along, mainly for Matthew's sake XD so yes! Just in case I didn't explain it well enough, Elizabeth is of course Iggy, Francesca is Francis, and Emily Alfred :) but in this they're not themselves gender bent, or related in any way X'D they're just different people ^^ I hope they don't get too bothersome!**

**. Dya think I can get away with Antonio and Lovino's scene in the middle there? /cringe/ I want to keep this a T as long as possible, so I tried not to make it graphic enough to make it an M, but I'm not sure Q_Q it'll be okay… right…? XD  
And I know this is a terrible, terrible, cliché weeaboo just BLARGH thing with the Japanese summer festival, I just needed a way to get them all together, and that was the first and easiest thing that I thought of ^^" sorry ._."**

**But thank you for the reviews! And thank you for reading! Love you so much!**

**I'll try and shorten these A/Ns o_o**

**Love you guys! Byebye!**


	12. So that's what happened!

**Chapter twelve – So that's what happened!**

Arthur really didn't know what was going on. He tried to replay the events in his head to understand them, but it really didn't make sense. It was all so confusing!

To begin with, him and Alfred had got off that god damn cave where Lovino and Antonio were sleeping, and seen Francis naked, which Arthur was trying _not_ to remember. After they'd got him back into clothes, he and Alfred had sat down on a rock, drying off the saltwater-y clothes in the warm sun while eating some ice cream Matthew had given them. It was from about five o'clock onwards that got confusing.

Arthur had told Alfred he was just going to have a word with Owain. He planned on asking what the hell was up with Alastair, as their Scottish brother really wasn't being himself, and even declined Gilbert's invitation to go and cause trouble, which really wasn't like him. Arthur had found Owain being harassed by Francis, who was also wondering what was up with Alastair. The moment Francis had laid eyes on Arthur is where it'd gone downhill. Francis had grabbed the two, telling Antonio – who presumably swam off the cave with Lovino – to go and get something for the two to drink.

And that was all Arthur could remember – from the moment he'd swallowed the 'water' that Antonio had handed him, he must've blacked out, and whenever he woke up he found himself in the angel costume that Francis had presumably forced him into.

"Oh hon, Arthur~ you're awake! Good, good, good! Now, you will be a nice little Briton and put on a lovely show for our growing audience!" Francis had that creepy smile on his face again, "Or… I'll show everyone this…" Francis held up a photo that sent shivers down his spine, a picture that he _really_ didn't want to remember.

Said picture was in fact of a Christmas party that taken place last year. It was the year Arthur's mother had stupidly decided on whim to get the entire extended family around to their flat in London. This, of course included Alastair and his other brothers. It was also the year Arthur's mother decided it was about time Arthur and Owain began drinking. It wasn't the best decision she'd ever made, as the picture proved. Let's just say it involved Arthur shirtless, grinning like a pervert, a pole, and numerous fluffy items found in a locket box inside his mother's closet.

"I have many, many copies of it~ and Gilbert has got very experienced with Photoshop recently, so he could make it _even worse_ if he wanted to – not only that, but we could blow it up bigger – send it to the queen! Or we could show the head teacher… Your choice! Go out wearing that very cute little angel costume, or never ever forget last Christmas."

"Shit." Arthur swore.

That's how it had happened. It turned out Alastair, Owain and Lovino all had their own embarrassing blackmail to force them into doing the deed; Lovino's was something that involved Feliciano – Arthur really didn't want to know; Alastair's was the moment he'd accidentally kissed Gilbert – _how can you accidentally kiss someone?_ But Owain's was the worst of all – it was apparently a picture Francis had taken last year when they were dating in his own words 'during that time where you were dressed as that adorable little kitty and begging me for something~'. Arthur had stopped listening from then and on.

But then there was also the issue about Elizabeth! Why the holy hell was she here? That had also been a misunderstanding of the previous year. Elizabeth and Alastair had been dating, but according to Alastair she was 'the devil with pigtails', and he needed to get rid of her somehow! The Kirklands being an overprotective breed had stood up for their oldest brother, and all six of them, even little Peter, had chased Elizabeth away with oversized sticks, only for her to return the next day, this time telling Arthur how much she loved _him._ Of course, Arthur had flatly rejected her, remembering the terrible stories Alastair had told him of her devilish side. Elizabeth had been supposedly 'heartbroken', and got her friends, Emily and Francesca to stick up for her. It had ended in the girls school near Goverek to declare 'full on war' on the boys school. The students had taken it so far they'd even got Feliciano and Lovino's father to import crate after crate full of juicy tomatoes to throw at the girls in the 'melee battle' that had been arranged the weekend after.

That was beside the point though! Ever since that day of 'The Battle of the Tomato Warfare' (they'd christened it so because both sides had chosen tomatoes as their fruit-weapon) The girl's school had declared an ultimate war with Goverek boy's school, and whenever a student passed one another, they were to throw anything they had at the enemy, whether it be words or objects. Elizabeth was living up to that rule right now, as she called out to the flushing and flustered Arthur:

"Aha! Arthur Kirkland caught in such kinky clothes! This will _never_ get old, I'm very sure your mother would like to hear about this! And what would your _father_ say, Arthur? As for _you_ Alastair, I don't know how you'll ever live it down! Both of you, you make such good sluts, just like your mother!" Her cackles really were annoying! And how dare she call Arthur's mother a slut! That was rich coming from her!

Alastair had joined in then, gritting his teeth, "Elizabeth. Oh _shit_."

"Hey! Hey, hey, hey, seriously, guys – Matthew's _straight!"_ Alfred interrupted, sounding completely off-topic. Arthur sighed, glaring at his friend.

"Of course not! Where on earth did you get that idea? But that's not what we need to be focusing on here! Help me for pity's sake!" Arthur growled.

"Well, actually, _mon cher,_ I hate to inform you this, but you are indeed wrong – it seems Matthew is convinced he is straight." Francis butted in, shrugging disappointedly, "I have tried to tell him he is wrong, and that soon enough he will see the appeal of men, but at the minute he just doesn't seem to believe me."

"Well that's obviously bollocks." Alastair laughed roughly, "We all know Matthew's as bent as Owain here."

"Oi! Just because Matthew looks and acts gay, it does not make him gay! And I'd prefer it if you said I was 'gay', not 'bent' thank you very much." Owain seemed to catch on to what he was saying, "Who am I kidding? Matthew _is _as gay as me. And I'm saying this in a _maid outfit._"

"Why are we having this conversation! The topic at hand is not Matthew's sexuality! It is the fact that you are all dressed as ridiculous sluts!" Elizabeth cackled happily.

"I never thought I'd agree with you, but you're right." Arthur spat reluctantly.

"No! It really is the matter at hand! _Look over there!"_ Alfred pointed behind him frantically at a nearby rock.

Sure enough, Alfred had been right. The thing they needed to talk about _was_ Matthew's sexuality. Everyone turned their gazes to where Emily and Matthew were, sucking each other's faces off, quite happily might they add. Both had a rich blush coating their faces, but both were smiling. Neither had noticed the heated conversation behind them, or indeed the ridiculous outfits Arthur and the others had been forced into. They were _that_ into each other!

"Emily Jones!" Elizabeth screamed, "What the hell are you doing! You do not kiss our enemy! That is like Winston Churchill kneeling in front of Hitler and licking the dirt off his ugly boots! What drug have they given you! Get _away _from him! Can you hear me?" All of Elizabeth's shrieks were in vein. Emily didn't respond – it seemed like she hadn't even _heard_ the angry English girl. They were standing quite a while away, but really; probably people two beaches away could hear Elizabeth's shrieks.

"Emily, _ma chere!_ Do not dirty yourself with the scent of such an awful pig! If you're going to kiss anyone from that God damn school at _least _kiss the American! He was decent enough, _non?_ And you seemed quite into him before you found out he was one of them, too!" Francesca pleaded, though between pleads sneakily winked at Francis, who'd caught her eye. He may be a boy, but he was indeed handsome… and _French_. He'd be her next victim!

"Matthew! For god's sake, if you're that desperate, then you can kiss _me!_ In fact, kiss me anyway! Just get away from that un-awesome American!" Gilbert called, growling.

"Gilbert, _mon cher,_ you do not seem to understand, if anyone gets to kiss Matthew, it would be me, _non?_ I have been chasing after him an awful lot longer than you!" Francis turned on his friend.

"_FOR GOD'S SAKE!"_ Carlos growled, running towards the group with Jett following behind him, "I can hear you from _all the way over there!_" He pointed frantically at the rock he'd been sitting on at the front of the beach, "_Tone it down you idiots!_ What're you even _arguing_ about!"

Everyone either pointed towards Arthur and the others in their costumes or Matthew and Emily, who were _still_ kissing.

"Hah! Eyebrows got put in a skirt!" Jett cracked a grin, taking a picture on his iPhone, "So going on Facebook."

Carlos was distracted by Matthew and Emily, though, "Matthew…! What're you _doing_, idiot! Is that…?"

Emily and Matthew _finally _broke away, both glaring at the crowd of onlookers, especially their classmates who'd been shouting like idiots. "Do you _mind!" _Matthew began, his quiet voice now full of volume and annoyance, "I've been _trying_ to make out with Emily here, but every single one of you seems to think that they can control my love life and sexuality! Even _you_ Carlos and I thought that you of all people wouldn't judge me like that! I'm straight – get the fuck over it, okay? Gilbert and Francis, I am _not_ kissing you – and if we're all still held up about that stupid argument thing that happened last year, then you guys seriously need some help! Stop being so _fucking childish!"_

The crowd just stared at him, completely gob-smacked.

"W-what?" Matthew glared at the floor, pouting – now suddenly self-conscious.

"M-Matthew… you… _shouted? _And swore? And you're straight? Seriously what." Carlos spoke for everyone, even Emily.

"Gah! For God's sake – get _over_ it! Come on, Emily – we're going to find some privacy!" Matthew turned curtly, grasping Emily's hand and pulling her away from her very angry looking friends, "Emily!"

"Yes, yes, coming Matthew~" Emily smiled, turning to say goodbye, "I'll see you on Monday Elizabeth, Francesca!"

"Emily Jones! You get right back here! If you leave with him…!" Elizabeth and Francesca were both screaming at their friend to come back, but she just grinned and ran after Matthew.

With that, no one really knew what to do. They all exchanged confused glances, members of the crowd just shrugging and carrying on with their lives.

"Can we please get out of these costumes now! We are still here, you know!" Lovino shouted in annoyance, "You do know you've all been shouting at the _wrong people!_ It's these idiots we should be swearing at!" He jerked his finger toward the Bad Touch Trio, who were very slowly backing away, and froze when they felt everyone's gaze on them.

"Do explain, Lovino." Arthur raised an eyebrow, ready to listen.

"Okay. First of all, whose idea was it to declare war on the girl's school?" Lovino began, everyone thought back, and then their eyes settled on Gilbert, "Of course it was Gilbert! Then whose idea was it to import all of those tomatoes from my dad? Antonio? Ring any bells? As for Francis – he's just a pain in the ass, and hell, he's annoyed us all for a reason to turn on him! We shouldn't be fighting against each other – it's these three we need to fight!" Lovino declared, throwing his fist in the air.

Everyone took a moment to think over what the Italian had said, and then in turn threw up their own fists, shouting in agreement.

"Antonio, Gilbert, I think it's about time we made our leave, _non?_" Francis was already slowly walking away, Antonio and Gilbert following him as everyone's annoyed gazes fell on the three, "Run! For God's sake – don't stop running until you reach China!"

"How does that even _work!"_ Gilbert cried, but began running just like he'd been told to, the three darting down the bay being chased by their angry classmates and girls alike.

Before he set off on the hunt, Arthur had a quick idea, "Mrs. Honda – do you have any food you don't need?"

Tilting her head in question, Kiku's mother answered Arthur, "But of course, Kirkland-san. Why?"

"You see, I am in need of throwing something to throw at those three idiots. Do you mind if I take it?"

"Of course not, dear, it's in that bin over there." She chuckled to herself as Arthur ran off carrying a gigantic crate of rotting food, telling the others that he 'was armed and ready!', "Ah, how nostalgic. If I could be young again it'd be a dream come true…"

* * *

"Hell! You run quickly for just a small Canadian!" Emily grinned at Matthew, chuckling to herself.

"Sorry about that lot…" Matthew sighed, "Really, no matter _what_ they say, I _am_ straight."

Emily sat on a nearby beach – the two had run over the sand dunes and on to the walkway that led on to the beach. She looked up at Matthew, "Matthew, what do you feel when you kiss me?"

"W-What?" Matthew asked, shocked.

"No, let me rephrase the question, actually. What do you feel for me?" Emily folded her arms, waiting for Matthew's answer.

"I love you." Matthew declared, never leaving her sparkling blue eyes.

Raising an eyebrow at this, Emil smiled kindly, "Matthew. I think you _want_ to love me, I don't think you do though. Think about from the day you met me."

So that's exactly what Matthew did.

He'd lived in England most of his life, but always took regular trips back to Canada to visit his family. He'd lived in the same house in Padstow for years, and had attended nursery, then primary school, and now high school. He'd had a fun childhood, mainly because of one person – the very person he was now 'forbidden from talking with' – Emily Jones. She'd been his next door neighbour for years. Since the age of four, the age when Matthew had moved into that house, they'd been friends. No one knew about being friends with Emily, not even Carlos. For some reason Matthew wanted to keep it a secret…

Emily had been born in America, but on her first birthday, she'd been moved over to England. That was how she stumbled across Matthew three years later when he moved in. They'd taken to each other immediately, and been inseparable since. They were brilliant friends, as were their parents. They played with each other every day, and were in the same class in school. Their parents were even joking about weddings. But one day when they were nine, Emily's mother came to visit Matthew and told him that Emily had to move back to America. He still wasn't quite sure about the reason – it had something to do with her grandparents being very ill. He thought he'd never get to see Emily again, but he'd been wrong.

He'd met her again last year. Apparently both of her grandparents had passed away together. Her parents said it was too heartbreaking to stay in America, where their only memories were that of death, so they moved back over to England once again. They didn't live in the same house, but they still lived in Padstow. Emily, of course was enrolled in the only high school in the area – the girls high school. Matthew hadn't known about her return until 'The Battle of the Tomato Warfare' last year, where she'd pummelled him to the floor with tomatoes, only to apologise later, as she hadn't recognised him. Ever since then they were 'forbidden to see each other' because of the rivalry between the schools, but they still hung out.

That was how Matthew had fallen in love with her – upon meeting her for a second time, all the memories of their past rushed back into his head, making him smile again and again. He remembered her bubbly, optimistic nature, how she could always make him smile, even when Kumajiro, his trusty bear was in 'the operating room' (his mother's sewing box) after loosing a limb. There was all this preserved, and now even more. She was even kinder than before after being affected by her grandparent's death. She was more mature, and less narcissistic, and Matthew had to say she was an awful lot prettier. She was an inspiration – someone to idolise. She was an amazing person. That was why he loved her!

"Matthew, tell me, why do you love me?" She tilted her head kindly, holding his hand.

Matthew took a shaky breath, blushing, "W-well… You're beautiful, and amazing. You're so kind to me and after all you've been through you can still smile so happily at the end!"

Nodding, Emily patted the Canadian's hand in reassurance, "Matthew, are you sure that's not just that you idolise me? I think what you're feeling is admiration, not love. Admiration can be a contributing factor to love, but it can also be a huge part of friendship – and I think the admiration you feel for me is the friendly kind, honey."

"B-But how do you know? It might be love!"

"Matthew, what did you feel when you kissed me? And I'll know if you go making things up – you always start saying 'eh' whenever you're lying, you know~" Emily giggled.

"W-What? I do?" He'd have to bear that in mind! "Well… It felt… nice… but not how everyone says… I don't really know how to explain…" Matthew said, obviously struggling.

Emily nodded, understanding immediately, "I understand. I'll ask you some questions, so you have to answer truthfully, okay?" Matthew nodded, "Okay, did you feel butterflies?"

Matthew shook his head.

"Did you feel like you'd never frown again?"

Matthew shook his head.

"Did you feel like you never wanted to stop?"

There was a pause, as if Matthew was willing himself to nod, but finally he shook his head, realising what Emily was saying.

"See? Matthew, you're not in love with me. And sorry to tell you, but even if you _were_ in love with me; I wouldn't be able to love you back, because I'm in love with someone else. Think of that kiss as me trying to show you your true self. I know you're not in love with me, because I've kissed the person I love, and I felt all of that. I know it sounds corny, but it's true." She smiled warmly, letting go of his hand and patting him on the shoulder, "We're just friends, yeah?"

"Yeah… Sorry about all this, Emi…" Matthew sighed deeply, "Now I'll never get Francis off my back…"

"Oh I wouldn't be too sure about that, Mattie!" Emily winked, climbing to her feet, "Francesca believes she is the 'ambassador of love', but to be honest I think I deserve that title! I think Francis is having a hard time getting over a broken heart, he's just too proud to show it."

"Hah! If that's the case, then I'm even more screwed – Owain will _never_ get back with Francis, and even if he wanted to, Alastair wouldn't let him." Matthew laughed weakly, beginning to walk back, linking arms with Emily in a rather girly fashion.

"Well, there's always Gilbert or Carlos!" Emily said, giggling at Matthew's shocked expression, "Oh come on, it's as broad as daylight that they fancy you"!

"Whatever you say…"

* * *

The Bad Touch Trio hunting trip had been rather fruitful. The mob of annoyed students had managed to catch up with the three, pummelling them in Mrs. Honda's rotten food. They'd decided to keep them captured, and Peter had taken the liberty of placing a large bamboo stick into the sand, and in turn the year sevens tightly secured their upperclassmen to the pole, and took turns in keeping guard over them. Of course, any member of the trio could easily have escaped, but they were kind enough not to ruin the kid's fun, and stayed put, pretending to be completely at their mercy.

At this point, it was nearing nine o'clock – the sun was just going down past the far off horizon, dying the sky a rich collection of oranges, yellows, reds and blues. It was a beautiful sunset, a little cliché, but all the same a sight to see.

Arthur had finally changed out of his 'Britannia Angel' costume as everyone had christened it, and was sitting on a rock beside Alfred in his union-jack swimming trunks, a big hoodie covering his chest.

"Man that was a hectic day! Fun and amazing, but hectic all the same." Alfred sighed in relief, "Now we can finally relax, right Artie?"

"I wouldn't say the angel part of it was fun…" Arthur pouted, stealing a lick of the ice cream that was slowly melting in Alfred's hands, "That'll melt and get everywhere, you know."

"Ah, sorry I was spacing out!" Alfred smiled awkwardly, licking up the dripping cream with the tip of his pink tongue. For some reason it made Arthur blush heatedly, "And I wouldn't say that was the worst part! You were an adorable angel!"

"Shut it. You'd be complaining if I shoved you in a nurse's dress." Arthur snapped. Alfred shut up about that – he did have a point.

There was silence for a minute or two, and Alfred felt a warm weight on his shoulder. Looking down he saw Arthur leaning on his side the way you always see in films. It didn't bother in the slightest – on the contrary, it reassured him a little and made him relax. It did make him wonder why _Arthur_, hater of any awkward social situation or unnecessary physical contact was leaning on him out of his own will, though.

"I'm tired…" The English boy whispered to his American friend.

"I could sing you a lullaby?" Alfred grinned, half-joking. It seemed Arthur took the half-serious side of it seriously.

"That would be nice."

Alfred was luckily saved from his inevitable fate of forgetting the words of the song he was going to hum to Arthur by Mrs Honda, who was calling out to everyone in her heavily accented voice.

"Everyone! Stand clear! We're going to set off some fireworks, okay? Everyone get ready!"

A few seconds later, sure enough there was that familiar _whooshing_ noise as the firework flew up into the air, and then the bang,followed by a crackle, and an '_ooh~'_ of appreciation from the crowd. The fireworks were indeed very pretty, and looked like they could've cost quite a bit of money, so Arthur and Alfred took the curtsy of watching the make-shift firework show along with everyone else.

"This is so damn cliché. It's a sunset with fireworks on a beach – two best friends. All we need now is someone to grab an acoustic guitar and warble a ballad in the background while we share a plate of spaghetti at a candlelit table, a scarf to share and a bouquet of roses and we'll have the set complete." Arthur said, though Alfred wasn't too sure if he was complaining or just commenting.

Both of them deliberately ignored the fact that they were all romantic clichés.

"Oh…! Shit!" Arthur broke the silence, checking his watch, "The last bus comes in five minutes! We'd better get everyone together!"

"I don't wanna get stuck here!" Alfred complained, beginning to help Arthur round everyone up.

Five minutes when the bus came, most people were ready thanks to the quick-spreading word that they'd have to walk the four and a half mile walk home if they didn't shift their backsides. Everyone was on board and the bus was just leaving, until the poor driver (with a bus packed with rowdy students – the girls had to get home too!) saw the figure of Francis, Antonio and Gilbert running behind the bus, attached to a gigantic bamboo pole, waving and begging for him to stop. He may be an old man, but he did have pity for the idiotic teenagers.

Peter looked out the window seeing his captors, then shrunk awkwardly. He'd done such a good job of guarding them, he'd actually forgotten to free them, and his knots were better than anyone thought! After all, he was training to be Peter Kirkland – conqueror of the Seven Seas!

The bus made its way home, the Trio's bamboo pole sticking out of a window (they really couldn't get out of it! They'd need a knife when they reached the school…) and everyone laughing and joking. Some of the girls were even flirting with the students of Goverek, which came as a surprise to each and every boy, because not only did they have terribly low self esteems, and the big issue that half of them had no interest in girls – they thought that the girls would still be annoyed with them. Apparently after their revenge session with the Trio, their bloodlust had been satisfied. The only girl who wasn't cooperating was of course Elizabeth, who complained the whole way back.

Alfred was sitting next to Arthur at the back of the bus, grinning to himself when the Briton had fallen asleep on his lap. He was absent-mindedly combing his fingers through the blonde hair of the boy while watching an Italian girl flirt with Kiku, and laughing hysterically internally at Kiku's clueless and rather flat responses. The poor guy didn't even realise the girl was trying to get with him! Aww, bless him.

"American!" Emily swung her hand around one of the poles of the bus, neatly sliding into the empty seat next to Alfred, grinning at him and taking a glance down at Arthur's head on his lap and his fingers in the boy's hair, "Friendly? I'm sure Elizabeth will find a way to hate you for that~!"

"W-What? N-No!" Alfred swung his hands out of Arthur's soft blonde locks as if he'd been informed there was a cobra lurking in there somewhere, "Just friends. I'm not into that sort of stuff."

Raising an eyebrow – Alfred couldn't tell if it was in questioning, mocking or acknowledgement – Emily winked, "Ever been kissed?"

"W-why are we talking about this stuff? O-Of course I've been kissed! By loads and loads and loads and _loads_ of girls." Alfred declared, not meeting her eyes.

"How many lots of loads was that again?" Emily said, "Ah, well it doesn't matter, 'cause you're lying! Alfred Jones, you've never been kissed, you innocent little kid!"

After a few more protests of Alfred's, he finally admitted that Emily was right, "Okay. I've never been kissed. Your point?"

"How do you know what 'stuff' you're into until you try it?" She asked logically, "Look, when I was a kid, I wouldn't go near British scones. They looked like evil, deadly things to me, and I just didn't understand why anyone would _ever_ eat them. They were disgusting things! So when my mom offered me one (she _adores _them) I said 'no, mom! You _know_ I hate scones!' she asked if I'd ever tried them, and reluctantly I said no, I hadn't. So she forced me to try one, and ever since then my favourite food _in the entire world_ are scones."

"Your point?"

"I would've never discovered I liked scones if I hadn't tried them that day – I'd have missed out on so many yummy times in my past because I'd been ignorant on how lovely they were! But if I hadn't have liked them, I could just accept that and move on. Maybe you resent the idea of liking guys, but if you've never kissed either a guy or girl, there's no way of knowing what you _really_ like. You need to try both of them out! You're what – thirteen?"

"T-Twelve…" Alfred admitted, hanging his head in shame, "I'm thirteen on the fourth of July, though! So I'm almost thirteen! Almost!"

"So you're twelve, don't label yourself as straight or gay at this age! Your insides are a labyrinth, okay? And to find the true you, you need to get to the centre of the labyrinth. It's the dead of night and you only have a torch with you. It'll take you _years_ and so many thousands of wrong turns until you reach the middle, but one you _do_ reach the middle, you'll have learnt so much about yourself, and you'll have finally discovered your true self." Emily smiled, "Don't worry, Alfred – it'll all work out somehow. But look after him." She nodded towards Arthur, "He's a good friend, no matter _what_ Elizabeth says."

"I know." Alfred smiled warmly.

Two minutes later the bus pulled up outside Goverek boy's school – the girl's school was only down the road, and departing with surprisingly bright smiles, the girls ran off, some even kissing some boys on the cheek as they ran back to the dorms, trying not to be seen by their teachers so they'd be in detention for being out of grounds after hours.

"Well lads, I'm sure we all agree we need to do that again." Shane grinned, speaking for everyone as there was a cry of '_hell yes!'_ from most of the boys as they began flooding back into their dorms.

* * *

"Shane, have you seen Alastair?" Owain pouted, walking towards his dorm, "I can't find him."

"I'm pretty sure I saw him go into your room, why?" Shane replied, about to step inside the room to his own dorm.

"I just needed to ask him something… thanks anyway" Owain smiled, opening the door to his own dorm room, flicking the lights on, "Alastair? You here? You just disappeared off the bus…!"

What Owain saw in front of him was something that he hadn't seen for a long time, and had hoped never, ever to see again. It was a reminder of the past – rubbing salt in the wound for god's sake! Alastair was sitting on his bed, kissing someone, who was lying down on the pillows in a seductive form, very passionately, both of their chests bare.

This 'Someone' was the person who'd sworn their family to hell – who swore they'd never some back. Elizabeth. That _bitch._

"O-Owain!" Alastair saw his little brother, jumping away from Elizabeth like she was made of fire, "W-what're you doing here?"

"So glad you remembered – _I'm your roommate_." Owain's tone was icy, and actually kind of scary.

"Oh Owain, what a lovely visit you're paying to me and your brother. But it's not a good time, honey, could you come back later?" Elizabeth drawled, smiling wryly.

"Owain, it's not what it looks like! This is rebound! Rebound, for god's sake!" Alastair cried, "I'm trying to clear my head! I have no feelings for this girl!"

To the Welsh boy's surprise, Elizabeth didn't even flinch at Alastair's words, rather pulled him down for another heated kiss, "Ah, we'll see about that at the end of the night, my fiery little Scotsman. Anyway, Owain, I don't see how what your brother and I do in our spare time affects the likes of _you_. Unless, are you perhaps the third Kirkland to confess your love for me?"

"Don't speak to him like that!" Alastair growled.

"Yes, yes, dear." Elizabeth said offhandedly.

"No Kirkland ever had or ever will love you, Elizabeth. As for you, Alastair, you're just the biggest idiot in creation, and you suck at being a brother!" Owain didn't care that his insults were childish and probably didn't scratch his brother in the slightest – it was the best he could think of as he ran out of the door and towards the only other room he wanted to be.

"Owain!" He heard the faint call of Alastair from back in the room, and Elizabeth telling him to 'Shh'.

Oh he hated them both sometimes.

* * *

"You're _kidding_ me? I fell asleep on the bus? And you didn't think to wake me? So how did I get in here?"

"Ehh… I carried you…"

"You idiot! Do you know how many rumours that are going to spread?"

"Sorry, you just looked so peaceful! I couldn't wake you up! That'd be like kicking a puppy!"

Alfred and Arthur were in their dorm room, just about to climb into their separate beds after discussing what an 'awesome day' they'd had in Alfred's words, when they heard a sharp knock at the door.

"Who the bloody hell is that?" Arthur eyed the door suspiciously, "Should I open it?"

At Alfred's nod, the Brit walked the door, creaking it open a crack, and then peering out to see who it was, "Owain! What on earth's wrong? Come in, for god's sake, come in!"

Alfred looked up in question, only to see Arthur practically dragging a very distracted and upset looking Owain through the door, placing him on the bed, "Owain, what's wrong?"

"A-Alastair… and Elizabeth…" Owain pointed helplessly out of the door before breaking into a new wave of sobs.

Five minutes later, the Welsh boy had finally calmed down after a cup of Arthur's 'legendary tea' (it tasted like hot water to Alfred) and had explained the goings on of walking in on his brother and Elizabeth.

"T-They were on _my_ bed, too…" Owain realised with a jerk, sniffing, "He said it's only rebound, but I can see a repeat of last year happening… I can see her luring him into a false sense of security again… and he's going to get hurt…"

"Come on, Owain, let's not worry about what hasn't happened yet – we just need you to calm down, then you can sleep here – we'll push the beds together, and you can sleep in a double bed all on your own, yeah? Me and Alfred will take the floor?" Arthur was surprisingly good at comforting people, Alfred noticed.

"N-No… I don't want to intrude like that…" he shook his head desperately.

"Well okay then, you can sleep in the middle, with me and Alfred either side of you? How does that sound?" Arthur smiled, patting his brother's shoulder.

"T-That sounds good. Like we used to sleep, yeah? Me in the middle, you on the left and Alastair – but in this case Alfred – on the right?" Owain asked.

"Of course."

"You used to sleep together as kids? That's… freakin' adorable, Artie." Alfred was blushing; looking much like a girl who'd stumbled across something 'so cute it gave them diabetes'.

"Shut it, git." Arthur stuck out his tongue childishly.

"Oh no! I know what we need to do! Bear with me for like, ten minutes, okay? We'll do what girls do in bad situations! They always end up smiling, somehow, right? Girls are dead clever, so if we do what they do, then we'll be clever too!"

Arthur didn't question Alfred's screwed up logic, but nodded for him to continue.

"A slumber party!" He grinned triumphantly, before running out of the door, whooping.

**A/N**

**Ahahaha… I lied again X'D this wasn't the chapter I was looking forward to! But now I can 1000% guarantee that it'll be the next chapter X3 yay!**

**Oh by the way, when I say the Alastair/Owain stuff if over, I mean like the sort of incest stuff – They'll go back to their usual, almost flirtatious selves after this :D  
And I'm trying my best to centre this around Arthur and Alfred , it's kind of not working X'D I'm very sorry! A few of you have been wondering when the USUK stuff'll come along and I don't blame you! XD but I'm going to start hinting it even more with every chapter, and then soon Arthur will realise that his feelings of 'friendship' (which is what he thinks they are – how cute!) are actually romantic ones~ But in the background we'll be seeing Matthew's problems with the Carlos/Gilbert/Francis thing, and Owain's problems with Alastair and Elizabeth, and probably some Ludwig/Feliciano and Lovino/Antonio problems too :)**

**Thank you very much for reading, lovelies! Thank you if you have/will review, and thank you if you've faved/followed :D  
Love you all forever!**


	13. Alfred's 'Slumber Party'

**Chapter thirteen – Alfred's 'slumber party'**

"Alfred, why are we here again?" Matthew said desperation in his voice.

"A slumber party, of course!" Alfred turned around, a gigantic grin painted on his goofy face.

"I think what Matthew-san is trying to ask, Alfred-san, if _why_ are we having a slumber party?" Kiku explained patiently, looking rather tired and exasperated.

Alfred tilted his head rather adorably to one side in question, "Well, Owain's upset, and who the hell needs a reason to have a slumber party? They're awesome!"

"B-but don't _girls_ usually do slumber party stuff?" Matthew pointed out, a little ashamed.

"Well, go paint your nails and put in hair extensions, Mattie, 'cause tonight, if we have to be girls to have a slumber party, then we're all being girls!" Alfred said triumphantly, his hands resting on the handle to his door, "Now, are we ready to enter the 'Realm of the Briton' as I have deviously christened our room?"

"Whatever…" Matthew said, finally doing the thing everyone ends up doing with Alfred, and giving up, just riding his wave with ease.

"Ah…! Alfred-san, I fear in your rush to get us out of our room I have forgotten to bring a gift in appreciation… I hope you'll forgive my terrible manners." Kiku bowed deeply, very panicked suddenly.

Raising an eyebrow, Alfred just blinked stupidly, "Kiku, that doesn't matter, man! I'm your buddy, not your landlord or summin! Friends don't care about that sort of stuff, kay?"

Kiku nodded, but looked very uneasy, "If you say so." There was a quite vibration from the pocket of the Japanese boy, he flipped it open, reading the message he'd received swiftly, "Feliciano says he's on his way now."

"Hey you guys~!" Sure enough the familiar tone of the Italian sung out around them, making everyone smile in despite of themselves. Feliciano was one of those people you couldn't _not_ smile at, "Slumber party~! I haven't had one in ages! Ludwig says he's getting up early tomorrow morning, though, so he can't come…"

"Not to worry, Feli!" Matthew said, smiling at the auburn haired boy, "You have us, right?"

"Right!" The Italian nodded enthusiastically.

Finally, Alfred swung open the door to his and Arthur's room, exchanging a grin and a nod with his roommate who was still crouched to Owain, who was now in very adorable Welsh dragon themed pyjamas, comforting his brother, "You took your time." Arthur said, patting the Welsh boy on the shoulder once before climbing to his feet to greet the others.

Twenty minutes later at quarter past ten, all of the boys were sitting cross-legged in a circle on Alfred and Arthur's beds (they'd pushed them together to create a rather spacious double-sized bed) each in their own pyjamas, all a little stumped on what to do next.

"Alfred, seeing as you seem to be the expert, I'm sure you could tell us what people actually do at a sleepover?" Arthur asked, refusing to use the term 'slumber party' as apparently it was 'too American' for him.

"Ahaha… just lemmeh think! It'll come to me; you know… soon, it will come to me. Soon." Alfred racked his brains, and finally remembered sneaking in to sleep next to his sister at one of her slumber parties, "I know exactly what! Truth or dare!"

"Truth or dare…? Isn't that for girls, though?" Matthew asked, slightly worried.

"Of course not! Sure, girls _play_ it, but so do guys!" Alfred explained, "give me two minutes!"

He hopped off the bed, scuttling into the kitchen, before returning a moment later with an empty bottle of coke in his hands, setting it down triumphantly in the middle of the circle they'd created, and returned to his seat next to Arthur and Feliciano.

"Now we have a bottle to spin!" Alfred grinned, demonstrating his invention, and spun the bottle.

Ten questions later, even Kiku and Arthur were getting quite into the game of 'Truth or Dare?' and the had to admit, it was a very handy way of finding things out about your friends you'd never think you'd know.

It was Alfred's turn again, and he spun the bottle, a devious look in his eye. As the bottle slowed down, it was revealed that Matthew was at the mercy of Alfred's very creative questions.

"Matthew! Just the person I've been meaning to question!" Alfred smiled evilly, "Truth or Dare?"

"Truth." No one had picked 'Dare' yet – they were all too cowardly.

"Good, good!" Alfred said, very pleased, "You gay or straight?"

Furrowing his brow in annoyance, Matthew glared at the sheets of the bed, pouting, "STRAIGHT, GOD DAMN IT! You ask me this question too much, and the answer will always be the same!" Everyone sighed at his answer – when would he _realise?_

"But what about your conversation with Emily? Yes, we all know you slipped off to talk to her about sexuality, so come on, you're telling me you're still convinced you're straight after that?" Alfred pressed, not letting him escape.

"Fine! Okay, I don't_ know _what I am right now – I might be gay, I might be straight. I'll have to wait in love until I find out." Matthew tried to recite the lines Emily had told him as if they were his own.

Everyone shared the same grin at Matthew's girly words, "Mate, it's nice to give people credit if you quote them." Arthur grinned, "I'm sure Emily wouldn't want you taking all the advice she gave you and pretending you came up with it."

"W-what? I d-don't mean…!" Matthew panicked.

"On with the game!" Arthur announced, taking his turn, and spinning the bottle. It landed on none other than Mr. Confidence himself, Alfred, whose grin suddenly faded, "Truth or Dare, Alfred?"

"Truth, of course. What planet are you on?"

"Just asking, no need to get guarded – that part comes next!" Arthur smiled evilly, "I'll ask you the same question – are you straight or gay?"

Alfred cocked an eyebrow confidently, "Straight, thank you very much. As straight as a board!" he was even kind enough to draw out a plank of wood in the air with his hands.

Everyone was glaring at Alfred with mock annoyance on how easily he'd escaped the question. Next time it landed on him, they would have their revenge! But for now, it was Owain's go. Arthur had noticed his brother had cheered up an awful lot since the game had begun, and admitted he only had Alfred to thank for that. He was glad his brother was smiling again.

The bottle had landed on Kiku, who looked very weary of the now inevitable question that lay ahead. Even so, he sealed his fate by choosing truth (he'd heard that some dares at sleepovers could involve taking off clothes. He didn't want that!) And sure enough Owain asked the same question:

"Straight or gay, Kiku?" Owain smiled almost pityingly.

It took a moment for Kiku to answer, and when he did it came out in a tiny whisper, "I-I'm not too sure at the moment… you see… ah- I mean…"

"Just a word is all we need, Kiku," Owain patted the Japanese boy comfortingly, now feeling guilty for putting the boy on the spot.

"Ah… well… I-I mean this is from what I've found out about myself so far… but I am not sure if it's right or not, as I have never been kissed…" Kiku said, and took a deep breath, "I-I think I'm… ehh... g-gay…" He whispered the last word the quietest.

Alfred grinned, patting Kiku lightly in support, "Awesome, Kiku!"

"Y-you don't think it's weird?" Kiku blushed a deep scarlet.

"So what – do you fancy a lad?" Arthur tilted his head, logically working through the process in his head.

"Arthur-san, I do not mean to sound rude, but I believe that is another question." Kiku said knowingly, "You will have to wait for another round to ask that question." He smiled cutely.

"Ah, you're right, sorry about that." Arthur smiled in return, equally polite.

It was Matthew's go next to spin the bottle, and it landed on everyone's favourite Welsh boy, Owain, "Right, well we all know _you're_ gay, but what about Alastair and the twins? Surely you know what they are?" Matthew was clever!

Tilting his head back in though, and trying not to remember the awful moment last year when he'd been out-ed to pretty much the whole school, "Hmm… from what I've heard, and what I've been told, I'm pretty sure that Alastair's bi-curious, Shane's as straight as you can get, and Colin… I _think_ has had some experience with lads in the past."

"Alastair? Bi-curious? Seriously?" Alfred raised an eyebrow in question, "I thought he was all like 'I'm so manly I'd never get with a man' type of guy…"

"Same here," Owain shrugged, "He defiantly prefers girls, but I've walked in on him and Gilbert a few times…"

Everyone cringed at the thought, and hurriedly the bottle was spun before the images in their mind could blossom into more vulgar images.

It was Kiku's turn now, and the bottle had pointed to Feliciano, who'd stayed surprisingly silent the past few turns, but now seeing that the bottle had landed on him, his face lit up brightly, "Truth!" He called without letting Kiku ask his preference.

"Very well, it seems I will go along with the norm – Are you gay or straight, Feliciano-san?" Kiku asked kindly.

" I like boys and girls~!" Feliciano grinned, "Bisexual, right? 'Cause girls are super-duper pretty, and I wouldn't mind dating one, but guys are also pretty awesome, right? Like Ludwig!"

No one was entirely sure if what Feliciano had said was a confession or not – and noted it down that if the bottle were to land on him again, he'd be questioned thoroughly on the German.

"Hey, I have information on the others as well! I mean Francis and his lot!" Feliciano giggled, happy to see everyone curiously lean in, as if hoping to suck the information out of the Italian, "Well, my big brother is gay~ but don't tell anyone! He pretends to flirt with pretty girls so he can be part of the 'cool bisexual group' as Francis called it! Antonio is gay too, but we _all_ knew that. Francis and Gilbert are both bisexual~ and get this! So is Ludwig!" Feliciano waved his hands in excitement.

The shocked gasp that Feliciano was hoping for didn't come, "You mean you all knew?" He asked, his curl flopping in disappointment.

"C'mon, Feli! It's obvious the guy has a thing for you!" Alfred grinned, ruffling the boy's hair (why did he whimper at that…?)

"I fear that if Alfred-san has discovered about the crush Ludwig-san has on you, then the whole school probably knows." Kiku said, chuckling lightly.

"What do you mean Ludwig likes me?" Feliciano tilted his head innocently to the side, "Really? Uwah!"

"It's _obvious_ Feliciano," Owain grinned at his friend, Matthew nodding along.

"Awesome!" Feliciano grinned, and then suddenly realised they were in a game of truth and dare, "We need to talk about this after, kay? But it's my go now!" The bottle spun, passing each boy, then slowing, slowing…

_Please don't let it be me… Please don't let it be me…_ Arthur sent the silent prayer up to the heavens. No one was listening, he realised when the bottle inevitably landed on him.

"Straight or gay, Artie?" Feliciano said, adopting Alfred's silly nickname.

"Hey! I didn't ask for truth!" Arthur complained, as he was planning to get out of the question by selecting the first dare in the game.

"Well, dare is banned for this round!" Alfred announced, very pleased with himself.

Glaring at Alfred, and then at the pillows, Arthur muttered a word under his breath.

"Sorry, Artie, we couldn't hear that one~" Alfred teased, delighted with the new torture he'd found.

Arthur cleared his throat, not meeting anyone's gaze, "I-I've been giving it some thought… and… well… I think it's safe to say that… at the moment I am pretty sure… that… I like guys."

"We match, Arthur!" Owain smiled in support, "Don't worry, I'll show you the techniques on how to avoid objects your dad will throw at you when he finds out the news."

Everyone apart from Arthur laughed, thinking it was a joke, until they saw the brother's shared expression and quickly shut up, realising that Owain really _wasn't_ kidding.

"A-anyway. Moving swiftly along!" Arthur said quickly, "Can we have some dares now, please, because all this girly gossiping is making me feel more and more feminine by the minute!" Everyone swiftly agreed, thinking up dares in their heads.

A few more rounds passed, and as Kiku had worried before, some of the dares did indeed involve taking off clothes. Luckily as all of the boys were slightly scared on how bad the dares given to them would get, they didn't go out, and the closest to fully naked they got was Matthew and Arthur having to spend two rounds in their underwear.

Just as it was Alfred's go again; he had a sudden idea, "I know! I just remembered another game my sister would play at her sleepovers! Spin the bottle, but you'd spin it twice, and then the two people it landed on had to kiss each other! But the length of this kiss would be decided by the others playing!"

Everyone mulled the suggestion over for a minute, "But…we're all guys…" Matthew worried.

"I don't think it matters! They were all girls at my sister's sleepover, and it didn't mean anything, they were just mucking around!" Alfred grinned.

"I think it sounds fun!" Feliciano waved his hands about happily, "Yay! Let's do it!"

And that is exactly what they did. All a little nervous about the inevitable fate of kissing the others (which meant for some giving away their first kiss…) they stiffened up with the bottle was spun for the first time, begging physics to spare them.

The first two victims, science had decided, were to be Feliciano and Kiku. The Italian grinned at the Japanese boy who was flushed the brightest of pinks, "How long, commanders?" Feli turned to the other boys, who were muttering to each other, obviously deciding what would be sufficient.

Deciding on a time, and nodding to the other two, Alfred mischievously grinned at Feliciano, "thirty seconds – but! It's not that easy! You've got to do it… like… ehh…" He suddenly became very bashful, "… ehh, Frenchly?"

"You mean a French kiss?" Feliciano asked, "Oh! I can do those! Francis taught me!" No one bothered asking about Francis, they got the immediate idea, "Get ready Kiku! Three, two, one!"

And just like that, the poor Japanese boy was being attacked by Feliciano – the little Italian actually seemed quite experienced with this sort of thing – the way he wrapped his arms around Kiku was both seductive and comforting at the same time, and let the Japanese boy relax enough to let his friend's tongue slide inside his own mouth, just letting the oddly confident and almost _dominant _Feliciano control him with the kiss. Exactly thirty seconds later, there was a beep from Alfred's phone (he'd put a timer on it) and the two friends slid away from each other, a healthy blush on their cheeks. Poor Kiku looked like he was torn between laughing and crying, so instead he settled for blushing even more and burying his head into a pillow.

"Ehee~ that was fun, right, Kiku?" Feliciano smiled.

"Feliciano… where did you get so good at kissing…?" Arthur asked the obvious question for everyone, as they were all sitting there, their mouths still hanging open in shock.

Feliciano shrugged, grinning again, "Antonio, Gilbert and Francis have known me since I was a kid, and they always used to kiss me like that~ I figured it doesn't mean a lot, right? Because none of them love me or anything~! But since I met Ludwig, they're too scared to kiss me." He giggled innocently.

Still recovering from the shell-shock impact of watching the kiss, and all dreading their turn even more as they'd look really terrible compared to Feliciano, Alfred turned the bottle again, first landing on Matthew… and then Feliciano again.

"Man I'm popular today!" Feliciano grinned happily, "How long?"

Ten seconds later, Matthew was recovering from the heated kiss off Feliciano (man he was a good kisser!) and glaring at Alfred, who's instructions to Feliciano were 'kiss him like you did Kiku, but more heat and… use your hands or something!' But, Matthew grinned evilly, he would get his revenge when it came to Alfred's kiss.

Luckily, he didn't even have to wait too long, as the bottle chose its next victim to be none other than that exact American. The victim was just about to be decided as the bottle spun, spun, spun…

… And landed on Arthur.

"Shit." The Brit swore, shuffling very slightly away from his friend so their knees weren't touching like they had been before. Matthew's look of satisfaction made Alfred really want to throw a book at the Canadian. After what he'd told Feliciano to do to the poor Canadian, he knew he was hardly going to get off lightly with Arthur.

After they'd collaborated, Matthew began his instructions, "French kissing again, naturally – now for forty-five seconds, make it as heated as you possibly can, Alfie~ oh! And groping is essential!"

The glares Matthew received off Arthur and Alfred could've rivalled Medusa herself as they slowly turned toward one another, hearing the beep of the timer starting and knowing that they had to begin their act of seduction.

"Sorry…" Alfred whispered before taking the plunge and pulling Arthur straight away into a heated embrace. It was by no means Feliciano-standard, and Alfred's glasses constantly got in the way, but it was passionate all the same. Groping was indeed involved, again mainly on Alfred's part. Arthur was acting more and more like Kiku by the second, sitting there frozen, and letting Alfred do the work. He attempted kissing back, but Alfred's tongue just beat his own out of the way, not letting him get any flavour of dominance. Their hands tightened around each other's bodies, Alfred's hand slipping down to the base of Arthur's stomach, fiddling with the elasticised waste of Arthur's union jack pyjamas.

"Times up!" Matthew announced a little taken-a-back on how seriously Alfred had taken the dare. It took about five seconds for Alfred and Arthur to part, as if they wanted to carry on, but when they did part, there was an embarrassing amount of saliva on the skin surrounding both Alfred and Arthur's mouth. They wiped it away bashfully, avoiding each other's gazes.

"Bloody _hell_ you two! That was intense!" Owain said, blinking repeatedly, as if wondering if he'd been dreaming.

"Intense isn't even the word for it!" Matthew seconded, Feliciano and Kiku nodding along.

"Yes, yes, well now let's spin the bottle again, and watch as the rest of you have to kiss each other!" Arthur blushed, flustered and grabbing the plastic coke bottle, spinning it faster than usual. It's chosen victims this time were none other than Kiku again and Owain.

Seeing as Kiku was so very bashful, and Owain had had a pretty crappy day, Arthur, Feliciano, Alfred and Matthew decided to take it easy on the two, only assigning them to a thirty second open mouthed kiss. Owain took charge again (would Kiku be dominant with _anyone?_) and seemed to be enjoying having control of someone for the first time in a while.

"That was an eye-opener!" Owain grinned once they'd finished, "Francis never let me go dominant, and I've always wondered what it was like~!"

Matthew and Alfred were the next pair, both of them glaring jokingly at one another, each fighting for dominance, and carried on after the timer had gone off, not accepting that the other one might be seen as more dominant. They finally stopped when Arthur and Owain prised them away from each other, each panting for breath.

"I _totally_ owned you then, Mattie!" Alfred grinned triumphantly.

"Yes, yes, Alfred, whatever you say! Just because you can't admit that I am secretly the dominant one!" Matthew said, closing his eyes and laughing confidently.

"Both of you shut up – you're as dominant as each other!" Arthur settled it, letting Kiku spin the bottle once more.

The outcome made everyone wonder if it was against the rules, and the two participants want to gag. Arthur and Owain stared at one another, not wanting to believe that the forces of nature had decided for them to kiss one another.

"No, no, no! There must be some sibling rule!" Arthur shook his head repeatedly, "I can't kiss Owain – he's my brother!" He hadn't even thought of this as a possible outcome!

"Hate to tell you, Artie, but my sister never said anything about sibling exceptions!" Alfred grinned, and then took pity on his friend, "But don't worry, man! You just have to kiss Owain on the forehead, the cheek and then a peck on the lips – and let Owain do the same to you! Everyone agree?" Everyone nodded in agreement.

Taking a deep breath, Arthur locked gazes with his brother, trying to send across a telepathic apology as he leaned in pecking his brother on the cheek, then the forehead, then, very, very lightly on the lips. Immediately breaking away and looking at the bed sheets, Arthur flushed as he felt Owain's hand rest on his shoulder, as he leaned over mimicking Arthur's actions – for the cheek, then the forehead, and then the lips – not unlike the way they'd carelessly kissed each other as children.

Kiku was holding back the urge to burst into tears about how cute he found the scene, and came scarily close to reaching into his pyjama pockets to bring out his phone and snapping a picture. Alfred and Matthew were exchanging glances, wondering how two boys could _ever_ look so brotherly and just… innocently adorable. Feliciano was hugging the two of them, telling them about the time he'd accidentally kissed his own brother.

"I'm going to bed." Owain announced half-joking and half-grumpily, throwing a sheet over his head.

"Seconded." Arthur hid in the quilt next to Owain's, and then realised that it kind of looked like they were sharing a bed (which they were…) so climbed on to the floor, hugging a pillow.

"Oh come _on_ you two, don't be spoil-sports!" Matthew giggled, prising the sheets off Owain.

"Ah! Alfred-san, its quarter past three in the morning! I don't know how true it is, but I think that the cleaners come around at half three in the morning and make sure everyone's in their dorm rooms…" Kiku worried aloud.

"Hmm… Maybe we _should_ go to bed… Ludwig would be mad if I got a detention…" Feliciano sighed.

So, that is exactly what they did – after throwing around a few cushions, and deciding who would sleep where and with who, Owain, Arthur and Alfred ended up on the bed, with Matthew, Kiku and Feliciano tucked up on a mountain of pillows on the floor. Of course they had no intention of sleeping quite yet – they still had many things to talk about!

"So, Owain. What's been up with you and Alastair?" Alfred asked.

"Yeah, I've been wondering about that!" Arthur whispered in agreement.

Owain shifted awkwardly, "I don't know what you're all on about."

"Please, Owain, you didn't even _look_ at each other at the beach yesterday, and hell, you're usually inseparable." Matthew said, the sound of fabric shifting in the dark.

"W-well… we just had… a misunderstanding I guess…" Owain wasn't really _sure_ what to call what they'd had.

"Has anything ever happened between you two?" Alfred asked the question everyone gossiped about, "Y'know… like… _sexually?"_

Owain froze for a moment, debating whether he should tell his closest friends about the kiss yesterday morning. He'd already sealed his fate however by the silence – because _everyone_ knew what that silence meant.

"Oh my God! You have and all haven't you?" Arthur's eyes winded.

"N-no! N-nothing like that…" Owain whimpered into a pillow, "I-It's just… yesterday morning… I don't even know what happened, or who came on to who… we just sort of… ended up kissing…"

"What! And that's why you weren't talking to each other?" Matthew joined in.

"It's no big deal! I kiss my brother all the time~!" You could hear Feliciano's grin in his voice.

"Yeah… but this wasn't like how Arthur and I kissed – like how brothers are _meant_ to kiss – it was like…a… _real_ kiss… Like how I used to… to kiss Francis…" Owain said, ashamed of himself.

"So… What was it like?" Alfred dared to ask the question.

Owain paused before answering; listening to the silence and Kiku's light snores (he fell asleep quickly!) "Well… It didn't feel bad… and if I'm honest… it felt pretty… amazing."

There was another awkward silence as everyone took in what Owain had said, not wanting to embarrass him further.

"I'm wrong! I'm a creepy perverted freak that goes around kissing his siblings!" Owain said, sounding very distressed and disgusted with himself.

"Owain, don't _worry_ about it! I'm pretty sure _everyone_ has a dodgy-run-in with someone like that in their life. I know my sister got off with her best friend! Who was also a girl! Even though they were both dating guys! Don't fret – as long as you don't do it again, it'll be fine, right?" Alfred reassured the Welsh boy.

"Still…" Owain muttered, not convinced, "I think I'm going to sleep – wake me up in the morning, okay?" his voice lightened up a bit towards the end as he bid everyone goodnight.

"I think that's our cue for going to sleep to then, don't you guys?" Alfred yawned sleepily, "I mean Kiku's already zonked, and it looks like Feliciano's half asleep already! So night Mattie, Artie and Owain~"

"Night~" Came the choruses back, and the boys fell asleep to the sound of the maids pottering about outside, obviously listening for any signs of a student to be out of bed. All of them were stuck inside their own heads, mulling over the thoughts of that day, and although it'd got a little weird in the past hour or so, they all had to admit it was the best fun they'd had in an awful long time.

**A/N**

**Ahh! Finally the chapter I've been waiting for! I wrote it pretty badly, but I still enjoyed it! I love the idea of these lot playing truth or dare X3 Oh, and btw, the kisses up there don't mean anything towards pairings (apart from the obvious USUK, or if one of those pairings appeals to any of you then I might write it in X'D) they're just boys kissing for no apparent reason :D  
. I might've had this chapter up last night if my dad hadn't _taken me fishing. _I hate the outside! And I hate fish! And it was cold . but luckily, it did give me a chance to read Harry Potter again and gave me some inspiration X3 yay!  
And _Nanami of Falling snow, _I wouldn't be so sure about Matthew realising that he's gay just yet ;D it's going to take a while for that stubborn Canadian to realise who he's really in love with (it'll take a while because I haven't even decided yet .)  
Thank you very much for reviews! I love you all X3  
Have a good day!  
Love you loads :3**


	14. At least we're not French

**Chapter fourteen – at least we're not French**

The bright light that the sun brought with it whenever it shone over the hazy, distant horizon seeped through the cracks in the curtains, illuminating the previously dark room, rays of light shining on to the strewn out bodies of all of the boys, completely flat out after their exhausting day and late night. That was everyone apart from Arthur, the lightest sleeper of all the boys.

The blonde in question was having a rather pleasant dream, sadly one that he couldn't quite remember. His eyes fluttered open the minute the sunlight flooded into the room, starting him from the dream world. Immediately put in a good mood from the dream (god damn it, what was it?) Arthur let his senses return to him, and suddenly realised that the covers had been thrown off him… but, then if there was nothing to keep him warm… why was he _feeling_ warm.

The Brit realised with a jolt of shock that the thing that was keeping him warm wasn't actually a _thing, _but a him. His breathing now shallow, eyes widening in almost-fear, Arthur shifted his body very, very slowly, rolling over and coming nose-to-chest with Alfred.

It seemed, Arthur decided logically, trying to calm himself down, that during the night Alfred must've gotten cold, and searched for the nearest point of heat, which of course was Arthur, who'd been lying next to him. Then, still while asleep, Alfred must've wrapped his arms around Arthur's lower torso (as that's where they were now…) and hugged him close, not unlike how you'd hug a teddy bear.

_Or a lover…_ Arthur's inner maiden whispered to him again. Arthur told the innocent side of himself to shove off, and returned to the problem at hand.

Should he just let Alfred carry on hugging him…? It was hardly unpleasant, but Arthur was very weary of the light-headed, fluffy feeling that was beginning to appear. He wasn't sure what it was, or why it was there, but he was pretty sure that it wasn't too natural. If he reached down into himself and examined the exact emotions he was feeling, separating the mangle of feelings, he couldn't help but notice that there was a gigantic happiness bubbling up somewhere inside him, and he had no idea why he felt _happy_ at something like this.

Don't _panic_ Arthur! He scolded himself, breathing heavier against Alfred's chest – the adrenaline of the whole situation was putting him on-edge a little. What if Alfred woke up and thought _Arthur_ had been the one to hug him?  
_Well, why don't you hug him back?_ The girly voice whispered again, speaking the true desires of his heart, _it's not like you don't hug… what's the difference of doing it like this? And he _did_ start it_.

Why oh _why_ did that voice always win?

With shaking arms, Arthur brought up the limbs from his sides, pulling them around Alfred's chest and gripping on to the back of the t-shirt he was sleeping in, grasping at the fabric pathetically like a child grabbing hold of it's mother in a needy, innocent way. Arthur took it a chance and shuffled into the American further, tucking his head under Alfred's chin, and even inching his ankles in the gap between Alfred's own. Now blushing like a beetroot, and very surprised and confused with himself, Arthur wasn't sure what to do.

Luckily, fate didn't give him a chance to decide, because guess who woke up at that exact moment.

"Arthur…?" The American asked groggily, not fully awake. Arthur held back a squeak of surprise, freezing in the boy's arms and clasping his eyes together, and trying to control his breathing – pretending to be asleep, "Arthur… what time is it?"

As much as Arthur wanted to answer his friend, his mouth stayed glued shut, waiting for the reaction he'd get off Alfred when he actually realised what he was doing.

"Hm… you must be asleep… man… I'm the first up at a slumber party… that never happens…" The American was smiling to himself, and Arthur could hear the smile slowly drain away from his voice as he became more and more conscious, "W-what…?"

Ah. He seemed to have noticed what position the two of them were in. Arthur just had to keep his nerve! He couldn't run away or giggle – _he was asleep_.

The Brit felt Alfred shift awkwardly, but was surprised when he didn't shove Arthur off him. Instead, Arthur felt a hand comb through his hair – suddenly the dream he'd been having rushed back to him in an instant. Oh _god_, that was awkward – he'd dreamt about Alfred doing the exact thing he was doing now, and it had been extremely comforting. And it was extremely comforting right now.

"Man you're adorable when you're asleep…" Alfred said aloud, his voice no more than a hoarse whisper, "So innocent and peaceful… Even Francis wouldn't be able to resist your charm like this…"

Arthur's heart was beating at what felt like one hundred beats per minute, and he was panicking like hell. What was Alfred talking about! He appreciated everything the boy was saying to him, but he knew that _this_ wasn't part of a friendship relationship, surely? Plus it was making his insides feel like they were about to explode – but Arthur knew that if they _did_ explode, rather than blood going everywhere, it'd be confetti and pretty cute things. What was this boy _doing_ to him!

"The girl that marries you is going to be one lucky girl… she'll have your adorable personality, your kind heart and helping hands, you intuitive, not to mention your drop dead gorgeous eyebrows." Alfred chuckled into his friend's hair, still muttering to himself. Arthur couldn't help but feel his heart sink at the boy's words, but why?

"Oh wait. You like guys don't you…" Alfred chuckled, "Man, the girls will be disappointed to hear that. You'll be standing there, arm in arm with your equally gorgeous guy, while the girls flock around telling you how adorable you are. But I'll make sure that no one will break your heart… I'll only let someone worthy of your heart steal it, Artie."

A swell of pride for his best friend bubbled up inside Arthur, making him smile despite of himself, glad that Alfred had let him be his first friend. But half of him wondered _who_ this 'gorgeous guy' Alfred had predicted would steal Arthur's heart. The Brit slowed his thoughts down for a minute, picturing the scene Alfred had described – he was arm in arm with a taller, muscular guy beside him. He let his thoughts bring the focus up to the boys face. And when Arthur realised who his imaginary self was being embraced by, he wanted to squeal in both terror and joy.

Of course, the boy in his images had been Alfred – but Arthur wanted to know what it meant! _Why_ would he want _Alfred_ to steal his heart? He knew nothing of friendship, but the great initiative that Alfred had been muttering to himself about previously was warning him that this most defiantly was _not_ friendship.

But then what _was_ it?

"Oh god… what am I _doing? _Watching you sleep and _talking_ to myself? Next I'll start sparkling in the sunlight and be a drop dead gorgeous immortal vampire…" Alfred sighed, though Arthur couldn't tell if it was happily or sadly, "Drop dead gorgeous doesn't sound too bad though… you'd be able to get whoever you want…"

_You _are_ drop dead gorgeous!_ Both Arthur and his goody-two-shoes conscience screamed internally. Wow, for once he agreed with the girly voice!

"I want to go back to sleep… but I don't want to leave you…" Alfred muttered, very true to himself, and then suddenly clicked in his head, "Oh shit… what if you've been awake this whole time…?"

Arthur was having an internal war again – his miniature agreement with his conscience hadn't lasted long, and now they were arguing if he should reveal himself (_come on, you know you should do it! Alfred won't mind!_ Screamed the conscience) or stay pretend-sleeping (_For god's sake! If I get rumbled now Alfred might never want to talk to me again!_ Arthur was arguing back.)

"Thank _god_ you are asleep… unless you're still pretending now…" Alfred muttered to himself, leaning down to look at Arthur's face, studying it to see if there were any signs of awareness. Arthur was _very_ glad he'd been able to calm his face immediately, despite the fact he'd always been terrible at drama.

"Well, don't worry, Artie, you're safe with me! I'll protect you like a best friend should for your whole life." Alfred whispered to the fake-sleeping boy, "I'll be your hero!"

Arthur had to control the smile he felt trying to break out on his face, but then felt the heat a little closer to his face – wishing he could open his eyes and see what was going on, Arthur waited patiently, wondering why Alfred was leaning his face into his own.

The reason became clear only a matter of seconds later, as Alfred leaned down to his friend, pecking the purest of sweet kisses on his forehead, not unlike the way Owain had last night. Arthur felt his heart lurch at the feeling of the lips being pressed against his forehead. He knew it was nothing in comparison to the (bloody amazing) 'French kiss' they'd been dared to have last night, but for some reason, such an innocent gesture as this made his heart beat one thousand times faster than it should be.

_Maybe it's because you know he's doing it willingly?_ The Conscience reasoned, and Arthur had to admit that it _was_ making a _tiny_ bit of sense.

Before he could start up an argument with his conscience once more, Arthur felt breath on his face – Alfred was still looming over him… but _why?_ The breath became more concentrated as Alfred inched closer, and Arthur felt their noses rub against each other in a sort of accidental Eskimo-kiss. Arthur could feel his cheeks heating up by the second as he knew what was coming.

Sure enough, after a slight pause, Alfred leaned even further in, closing the gap between the two of them, pressing his lips against Arthur's. It was a chaste kiss to begin with, but then, despite what his brain was telling him not to do, Arthur leaned up, welcoming the kiss and kissed back, obviously rumbling his cover on pretending to be asleep. Arthur could hear Alfred' little gasp of shock as the Brit rose from his pillow, but silenced him in a second or two, attacking their lips together. Neither Alfred nor Arthur really knew what was going on; they just knew they liked it.

"Good morning." Arthur said, catching his breath once they broke away, the words slightly detached.

"H-H-How long were you awake for…?" Alfred's face was a crimson red, looking like he was about to jump out of the window, "tell me the truth!"

"Eh… Let's just say I was awake before you, kay?" Arthur avoided the American's gaze.

"I-I'm sorry…" Alfred hung his head in shame, only to look up when he felt Arthur's hand ruffle his hair, much like the American had been doing to Arthur previously.

"Don't worry about it. But it's what, six o'clock? This lot will probably be sleeping for a while, so we should go back to sleep." Arthur said, smiling and leaning back down on to the bedding, face-to-face with Alfred. Neither was entirely sure if they should sleep like normal people sleep, or how they were sleeping before.

"C-can we…" Arthur began, now suddenly the one blushing.

"Go back to what it was like before?" Alfred finished the sentence, "I was about to ask that too."

After a lot of awkward shuffling (and Arthur accidentally kicking Owain, who luckily stayed asleep) the two were back in their embrace as they were before, keeping one another warm, Alfred's hand in Arthur's hair, and both of their faces as red as the other.

"Why are we doing this, Alfred?" Arthur whispered, sounding a little scared.

"I'm not sure." Alfred said truthfully, "But let's carry on doing it, because it's nice."

Arthur's 'yes' was him snuggling further into Alfred's chest, clinging on for dear life, "I don't want to let go."

"Then don't." Alfred said simply, and the two drifted off into a slumber, not caring about anything.

* * *

"How was Elizabeth then, Alastair?"

"Fuck off, Francis; I am not in the mood to get sent to the heads office for punching a frog in the nose."

It was lunch time later on the Sunday, and Alastair was sitting with Antonio, Gilbert and Francis out on the field eating some leek something-or-other that Owain had made him yesterday before going to the beach.

"But why go for _her?_ You could at least get someone worth your while, like that nice piece of eye-candy Emily. I've heard Francesca's pretty experienced." Gilbert mused aloud, taking a drag of the cigarette Alastair had given him.

"Ah, you're obviously not too experienced, Gil." Alastair tapped the ash off the end of the fag, "Elizabeth, admittedly isn't the prettiest fish in the sea, but she's one of the easiest to catch. Not only that, but she's also pretty experienced. I'd probably get a punch in the face off Emily and a slap off Francesca."

"You speaking from experience then, Al?" Antonio grinned cheekily.

No one seemed to notice that at the mention of Francesca, Francis had immediately shut up, and didn't think it worth wile to mention that said French girl was indeed tied to his bed, completely naked, and 'waiting patiently for him to return so they could play dress up' in her own words.

"Sadly yes, Antonio." Alastair sighed, rubbing his cheeks as if remembering the pain.

"But why did you need a rebound in the first place? It's not like you were dating anyone." Gilbert pointed out, tilting his head in question.

"Maybe he was in love and got rejected!" Antonio suggested, sounding all too happy as usual.

"No, mate, that's you you're talking about. You really fucked up your chances with Lovino after that bunny-costume incident." Alastair chuckled at Antonio's heartbroken expression.

"That was Francis' fault! When he said 'bunny costume' I thought he meant like a big, fluffy, huggable bunny costume, like the ones you get in theme parks, not creepy _French_ bunny costumes!"

"So sorry, _mon cher~_ If you would like, _I'll_ dress you up in a cute French bunny costume too~" Francis flirted, only to be slapped by Alastair and Gilbert at the same time.

"Go flirt with Matthew, not your best friend." Alastair narrowed his eyes at the French boy, "It sucks to screw up a close relationship with someone."

The trio exchanged mischievous glances, realising just why Alastair was in need of his rebound, "You screwed things up with Owain, didn't you?" Francis grinned.

A little taken aback at how quickly the three had worked out his secret, Alastair recoiled a little, "What the fuck are you _on_ about! That's gross! We're _brothers!_"

Gilbert shrugged, sighing happily, "You see, Alastair, the sexual tension between you and Owain is as much as the Awesome Tension that hangs around myself."

"Oh, well then that's a relief – that means there's not much sexual tension between me and him." Alastair spat out the obvious retort with venom spiking his suddenly moody tone.

"Retract the claws, Alastair! We're only trying to help you, _mon cher_." Francis explained, winking at the Scot.

"You've already fucked things up with Owain, and I don't fancy fucking them up for myself, thank you very much." Alastair shoved his middle finger up at Francis.

"Ah! So it _is_ about Owain!" Antonio grinned at the discovery they'd made, "I knew it!"

"Ah! N-no! I meant if this _was_ about Owain then I wouldn't want his help!"

"Don't worry pal, you're only half-brothers." Gilbert shrugged indifferently, "and it's not like those twins of yours don't go doing something in that room of theirs." Everyone sniggered.

"Plus, you're both guys, so Owain won't get pregnant and have weird tentacle babies!" Antonio smiled, actually sounding happy. Sometimes his optimism was brought up to a freaky, just _wrong_ level.

Alastair cringed at the scary images that came to his mind, "I don't want anything like _that_, you freaks."

"Then what _do_ you want,_ mon cher_, if it is not sex?" Francis asked, examining his nails.

There was silence for a moment as Alastair mulled the question over. It was a very good question. What _did_ he want from this almost pointless circle with Owain? He obviously didn't want to date or do anything else with the boy, but he didn't want to have your average brotherly loving relationship.

"I don't know what I want." Alastair admitted, sighing, "Why is everything so _complicated?"_

"Because, _mon cher_," Francis paused, everyone looking at him, waiting for his usual philosophical outlook on life, getting their mental note pads out so they could quote him in the future and sound clever, "You are Scottish."

They all sighed, glaring at Francis for ruining was could've been an impressive quote.

"Well, at least I'm not fucking French." Alastair spat back.

"Speaking of fucking French, I have to go and play dress up with a certain French girl who kindly tied herself to my bed last night!" Francis grinned happily, jumping to his feet, "_Au revoir, mes enfants~" _

The three teenagers swore after him in means of a goodbye, glaring at the grass.

"Life sucks." Gilbert said what they were all thinking.

"At least we're not fucking French." Alastair repeated, the other two nodding.

**A/N**

**D: SHORT! I know! I'm sorry! I just need to get a clear idea of the plot in my head, and I'll know where I'm going! X'D**

**But! A thought sprung up whenever I was checking through a few things – I've included characters like Cuba and Hong Kong who don't have an official name, so have given my own, and although I've said in the chapters like 'they're from _x_ country' I'm worried it's not clear enough, so below is any character who I'm worried might be a little confusing~  
Kaoru Siu Chun – Hong Kong**

**Carlos Machado – Cuba**

**Jett Roberts – Australia**

**Miss Héderváry – Hungary**

**Mr Edelstein – Austria (I know those two have official names, I'm just putting just in case X'D)**

**Mei Wan / Miss Wan – Taiwan**

**And I just like, two seconds ago realised that Elizabeth (Fem!England) and Elizabetha (Hungary) have similar names Q_Q I'M SORRY ABOUT THAT! watch out for the 'a'! X'D and I'll try and refer to Hungary with her last name, seeing as she's a teacher X'D**  
**Just in case you were worried, the Kirklands were not dating their form teacher X'D**  
**sorry about that!**

**There will be more in the future, so I'll put them up with the chapter :D  
So anyways! Yes, I'm very thankful you read! And thank you for the kind reviews I've been receiving ^^ they're very moral-boosting! Especially you lot who've been reviewing every chapter since the first :) You're a gem!**

**And don't worry, I don't get annoyed by lots of reviews off the same person or one really long one – on the contrary, they make me smile even more ^^  
again, if you see any problems, _please tell me! _X'D**

**Have a good day, sweeties!  
Byebye~**


	15. Family affairs

**Chapter fifteen – Family affairs**

"Five laps around the track, then come here, beg for forgiveness, and you can go inside and get changed, da?"

Alfred and Arthur were in their PE class, with their inhumanly evil PE teacher, Coach Braginski. This wasn't Alfred's first PE lesson, but Braginski had been off on some 'personal business' for the time Alfred had been at the school, and had only just returned. It was safe to say, Alfred was _not_ fond of the Russian.

In their hour long lesson, Braginski had managed to get the whole class at collapsing-level by setting up a 'military circuit obstacle course'. The boys, being the 'cocky little twats' Braginski had described them as, had decided something with the words 'obstacle course' in was absolutely harmless – an obstacle course was a race in kid's sports days! So, naturally the first time they went round, they ran flat out, each racing for the best time. What they _didn't_ know was that Braginski was making them do it time after time after time again, each time adding a harder obstacle to the end. No one was allowed a break before they'd completed the circuit at least ten times.

As a 'warming down exercise', Braginski had decided that five laps around the track would be sufficient. As for the begging bit, he just enjoyed people begging for mercy. The head had told him that it was probably best if he _didn't_ include that in his lessons, as the parents might complain, but Braginski really didn't care – he was powerful and could do what he wanted!

"That tyrant…" Arthur growled as he set off beside Alfred on their light jog around the larger than average running track. Arthur wasn't one for sports, and everyone knew it, but he'd do them if he really, _really_ had to.

It was three weeks after the beach and sleepover affairs, and everyone had stopped talking about Arthur and the other's ridiculous costumes, and had moved on to other gossip. Over the weeks, Arthur had had a lot of time to think about things that had been confusing him for the past while. The main one, of course being Alfred.

Alfred had blossomed in the past three weeks – going from the title of 'The New Kid' or 'The Annoying American', he was now more frequently called by his name, or something positive like 'That Awesome American'. Alfred had done his part, following the school's curriculum, and had joined two after school music clubs – 'The Singer/Songwriter Club', and guitar practice. Arthur had always frowned on the singer/songwriter club, as he saw it as a place that all the failed musicians of the school gathered, discussing their empty dreams about growing up to become the next 'big thing'.

Not only was Alfred taking part in the musical affairs of the school, but he was quickly becoming Miss Héderváry's favourite pupil. He was sweet with her, and took it upon himself to do any labour that might be too hard for her (though they all knew that Miss Héderváry used to be in the army ((she'd pretended to be a guy)) and could kick _anyone's_ ass, including Coach Braginski, and was especially deadly when armed with her signature frying pan, as Gilbert had discovered many, many times.) But nevertheless, Alfred was making it up to the top of the social hierarchy, and was dragging Arthur behind him.

A month ago, Arthur had been famous for his terrible attitude, terrible eyebrows, and terrible temper. He was pretty much 'The Terrible British Boy'. Even Owain had kept his distance from his brother, and the only contact made to the blonde was teasing, usually from Francis. Arthur wasn't sure what'd changed, but it defiantly had something to do with Alfred. It was either that upon making a friend, his mind had been put at rest a little, and he was happier, which therefore resulted in a calmer, less intense attitude, and he wasn't as grumpy as he used to be, and didn't snap at people. It could've also been that because he was Alfred's best friend, everyone was getting closer to Alfred, meaning they unintentionally got closer to Arthur.

In fact, Arthur thought to himself, he had quite a few people he could class as 'friends' now, or at least an awful lot more than he had done before. Of course there was Alfred and Owain, the two who he spent most of his time around, but he was getting friendly with Kiku, who was often over in their room, lending Alfred imported Japanese video games, and translating them for him. Matthew was coming close to the 'friend' status, too, Arthur decided, as were Feliciano, Gilbert and Lovino funnily enough. Of course there were people who'd always keep their distance, like Ludwig, Francis and Alastair, but that didn't really bother Arthur.

But, Arthur couldn't help but notice that, when he saw Alfred speaking with someone else, there was a spark of jade-green jealousy frothing in the very depths of his stomach. He was used to feeling jealousy – it had been one of his most common emotions as a boy, despite his father telling him that 'It was against God's law to be jealous' – but this jealousy felt _different_ somehow. Before the jealousy had been that he had wanted something that he didn't have; now it was more like someone was trying to steal something he had.

This was one of the things he'd had chance to think about over the passed weeks – the emotions he felt around Alfred. As he'd decided before, it was defiantly above friendship. Arthur had referred to his usual motto 'If you don't understand, then read', and had nipped down to the library in the early hours of the morning, smuggling out girly pink chick-flicks (maybe he wasn't the only one shamelessly reading such girly books – why else would an _all boy's _school library have romance novels?) and brought them back up to his dorm, sitting in his bed and reading about the shallow love lives of equally shallow girls.

It wasn't the shallow storyline and the terrible writing style Arthur was bothered about though – no, it went much deeper than that. It was the reoccurring things he saw in book after book; when the protagonist laid eyes on her crush, and the feelings of warmth inside her; the butterflies that were trying to escape from her stomach when he looked at her; the burning of her cheeks when he spoke to her, and the feeling of wanting to faint when they accidentally brushed fingers.

Arthur found himself not only empathising with these moments in the books, but realising that he had been experiencing those exact same emotions – not to mention the burning jealousy when the protagonist saw her crush with another girl, or the breath-taking kisses that always occurred in the last half of the book. Arthur had experienced it all, and if he were to take judgement from the pile of girly books currently being stowed away under his bed, it seemed that he was in love. With _Alfred_.

He had to admit, it _did_ make a little bit of sense – a lot more sense than saying it was a 'strong friendship'. But somehow, he just couldn't get his head around the fact he might actually be in love with Alfred – his brain just wouldn't accept it. He'd had half a mind to go and talk to Owain about his confused feelings, but then remembered about the problems his brother was having with Alastair (the two were _still_ on unsure, confused ground) and didn't want to burden his brother further with the problems of his own love life.

"Artie – you've done five laps already, unless you want to do six and get on Braginski's good side?" Alfred chuckled, shaking the shoulder of his friend, popping his mental conversation.

"Ah! Right, thank you for telling me, I lost count there. Yes, lets go and beg or mercy at the tyrant's feet like idiots, then." Arthur sighed, following the crowd of panting boys towards Braginski, some of whom were crouched in front of him, as he watched with that same, unnerving smile.

After being released from the rather embarrassing begging act at Braginski's feet, Arthur and Alfred made their way inside the changing rooms, covered in mud and soaking wet (it had been pouring it down with rain earlier that morning) just behind Alastair and Owain, both of whom were complaining just as bitterly. The two had begun talking again, but weren't as close as they had been before – there was something missing from the two of them.

"How's darling Lizzie then, Alastair?" Arthur drawled, a pleased smile on his face.

"Shut it, prat." Alastair spat on the ground, trying to ignore the fact he'd felt Owain tense up slightly at the mention of the girl.

"Oh, but you must be _missing_ her so! I've heard that she calls you every day, begging to meet up!" he cackled, way too pleased with the fact the girl just wouldn't leave Alastair along.

"For God's _sake_, I _told_ her it was a rebound – I don't know _where_ she got the idea that we were dating from that. I told her explicitly 'no. I am _not_ dating you. It was rebound and you agreed!' Hell I hate her – Owain, why did you let me sleep with her?" Alastair was now sounding a little hysterical.

Owain just raised an eyebrow coldly, "Yeah, because the idea of you two being _together_ after sleeping together would be absolutely _idiotic – _I mean the two aren't even _related!_ Where could she get such an insane idea?" His tone was sarcastic and icy, like it often went when talking about Elizabeth, "And I didn't have a say in the matter if you slept with her – I was only planning to go to bed and found her lying on there instead."

"Oh come _on_ Owain, I apologised for that! I changed your bed sheets too! I'll never do it again! I'm sorry!" Alastair said desperately, sounding rather pathetic, which was unusual for the bad-mouthed Scottish boy.

"That's not what I'm bothered about, you _idiot!_" Owain cried desperately, "If this situation was funnier I'd be keeled over laughing about how _fucking blind _you are!"

Arthur and Alfred froze suddenly, realising just what was going on – after weeks of bottling the hurt up inside himself and not talking to Alastair about it, it was finally all spilling out in one big rush of accusations. Not sure if they should calm Owain down, or just let him shout out the feelings at Alastair, they decided just to let the situation unfold, and step in if needed.

"Owain, what's wrong?" Alastair asked, suddenly worried, "You _never_ swear."

"I can't even _tell_ you Alastair, because if I did you'd get the complete wrong idea! No wonder so many girls have you at the top of their hate list – you have no idea how to treat anyone! You all think they're as broken as you are; not everyone looks at the world through your weird, twisted eyes! People aren't indestructible, we hurt! We _break!_ And hell, it hurts to get broken, and I know you know that, because it's happened to you in the past!" He paused, trying to get his breath back.

"Owain, just tell me what I've done wrong!" Alastair begged, reaching out for his brother's shoulder.

The Welsh boy flinched at the contact, pausing for a moment, looking like he was about to collapse into his usual hug that he gave Alastair, until he glared at the red headed boy, throwing the arm off his own shoulder, "You need to figure it out for yourself. Then, once you've learnt _something_ about the workings of a human being, _then_ come and talk to me."

And with that, Owain ran off, leaving Alastair, Arthur and Alfred all staring after him, gob-smacked. They'd never seen Owain so… emotional!

"I'll make sure he's okay." Alfred said, already running after him.

Arthur sighed, smiling a little at Alfred's good nature, and then turned to his brother, "You really messed up this time, didn't you?"

"It's not fucking funny! I have no idea what I've done! He didn't even get that made when I mistook his favourite dragon plush for a dog chew toy and threw it out for the neighbour's dog!" He slumped him a heap on one of the low walls, "But you're right, I've fucked up big time."

"I'm sure he'll come around." Arthur smiled, sitting next to his older brother, hesitantly patting the boy on the back.

"You know what I've done too, don't you?" Alastair sighed, "Why is it I am the only one who doesn't know what I've done wrong!"

Hesitating, Arthur chose his words very carefully, "I think Owain is right – you need to work out what you've done by yourself, otherwise you'll never learn for future situations. But I'll tell you if you're right."

"It's about that kiss isn't it?" Alastair groaned, taking a risk and hoping Arthur knew about the fucked-up morning he'd had with Owain those weeks ago.

"From what I can gather, yes." Arthur sighed, "I think Owain… felt it… meant something between the two of you, and when he walked in on you and Elizabeth later that day, he felt terribly hurt – like you were trying to replace him, and forget about what you'd done. Maybe that you were ashamed of him, and thought that he was 'fucked up in the head' as you might want to phrase it."

Alastair stared at Arthur, his eyes wide as he registered what he brother was telling him, "Fuck. He thinks that?"

Arthur nodded.

"But that's not true! Hell nowhere near! Okay, I admit I feel a little weird about the kiss, but I don't think _he's _weird – I accept that we can't continue with that sort of stuff, I'm still his big brother! And if anyone's got the fucked up head, it's _me!_ Hell, I think it was me who kissed _him!"_ Alastair was sounding slightly hysterical again.

"Perhaps you should tell him that, then? He thought your silence to him over the past few weeks was because you hate him or something – it only confirmed his thoughts from earlier." Arthur pointed out logically.

"You're right. That's _exactly_ what I need to do." Alastair realised with a jolt, and then turned to Arthur, "Hang on, when did you get so good at giving advice about this sort of stuff?"

Flushing, Arthur quickly tried to think of an excuse, as he would rather _not_ tell Alastair of all people about his chick-flick stash of books, and how beneficial they had been, "Eh… Intuition!"

"Whatever. I bet you anything it's got something to do with that American of yours." It shocked Arthur on how quickly Alastair had hit the nail on the head.

"W-What're you talking about, Alastair!"

His brother leaned back knowingly, the hysterical side of him quickly replaced by his usual confident façade, "Ah dear brother, there will come a day when you will be able to look at someone, and are immediately able to tell if they're in love."

"What are you implying, Alastair?" Arthur was suddenly guarded, not liking where the conversation was going.

A glint in his eye, Alastair chuckled, "You're in love, Artie! With Alfred F. Jones!"

"Don't be absurd! I am _not_ in l-love with _him!_" Arthur panicked, all his worst nightmares coming true.

"Arthur Kirkland. Your heart flutters when you see him, no? Your face feels like it's about to evaporate due to the heat it's giving off. Your insides are squirming, and you want to run away and fling yourself on them both at the same time. Your heart skips a beat when you lock gazes, and when you touch – well, when you touch, that's a whole new story." Alastair grinned, "You're like me when I was your age - stupid, crazily in love, and scared."

"I-I am _not_ in love with Alfred!" Arthur insisted, "But this isn't the time to be having this conversation – you need to come and apologise to Owain!"

The two climbed to their feet, walking in the direction Alfred had run off, "Arthur, I know you well. You're my little brother, and though we weren't close when we were kids, we were raised by the same mother. Yes, she may have… changed… whenever she married your father, but deep down she's still the same caring, loving motherly figure she used to be. I _know_ you, Arthur, because not only did you inherit the Kirkland family eyebrows, but you inherited our mother's heart, too – one thing I didn't."

"What're you getting at, Alastair? You're starting to sound like a protagonist from a chick-flick series." Not that Arthur had any experience with that sort of stuff. Not at all.

"My point, little brother, is that you and Owain both inherited that heart, and I can see right through the both of you. You're as innocent as each other, and you, Arthur, are head over heels in love with Alfred. There's no point in denying it." Alastair ruffled his little brother's blonde locks, "Sorry for giving you a hard time when we were kids, lad."

"That's beside the point…" Arthur muttered bashfully, looking at the floor.

Before the two had chance to continue their conversation, the very person they'd been talking about came bounding in front of them, obscuring the path in front.

"Arthur! Arthur there's a _little _bit of a problem – we can't go over there!" Alfred waved his arms about hysterically.

"What're you talking about, Alfred? Where's Owain?" Arthur narrowed his eyes, trying to get around the American's tall build.

Luckily, Alastair and his tall build were able to solve the problem, and he picked the American up by his arms, lifting him over and placing him back down on the floor, right out of their way, "C'mon, Artie." He addressed his brother, jogging over to where Alfred had very clearly told them not to go.

"No! Wait! Alastair, Arthur, come _back_ for god's sake!" Alfred called, running after them, but he saw at how the two paused, staring at what they'd seen when turning the corner, that he was too late.

The moment they'd turned the corner, Arthur realised exactly why Alfred had tried to keep poor Alastair away from seeing what was hidden behind the limestone walls of the castle. As there, sitting on a flight of fire-escape stairs that led down from the second floor classrooms sat Owain, though he wasn't alone.

Sitting with him was none other than Francis, but the two seemed to be doing a little more than laughing and joking around like normal teenagers were meant to do. Francis' arms were wrapped tightly around Owain's shoulders as he whispered French nothings into the Welsh boy's ears. They were in the tightest embrace, and were so off in their own world they didn't notice that they were being watched.

What slashed Alastair the deepest though was that Owain wasn't resisting – he wasn't pulling away from the French boy. It was only then he understood just why Owain had been so annoyed with him, and why he'd reacted so drastically. He knew Owain well, and he knew exactly why his brother was doing this – it was a method of cruel revenge, maybe he didn't even _intentionally_ do it, but nevertheless, there he was with his arms around his ex-boyfriend, gazing into one another's eyes. And it _hurt_ Alastair. This is what Owain had felt when he'd walked in on Alastair and Elizabeth.

As if rubbing salt in the wound, Owain looked up, finally noticing they had company. He looked a little shocked at the fact he'd been rumbled so early by his brothers, and the guilt was showing through on his face. He looked from Francis to Alastair, and then over to Arthur, begging for an instruction on what to do – how to reverse what he'd done.

"_Mon cher, _I believe you were about to let me kiss you." Francis drawled happily, never once letting go of Alastair's gaze, a very smug look on his face.

"Yes. Yes, I was." Owain muttered, finally breaking his gaze from Alastair's, turning back to Francis and tilting his head up a little, their mouths clashing together in an almost angry, hate-filled embrace.

Alastair knew _exactly_ what he'd done, and _exactly_ what had hurt Owain. But he couldn't stand to watch that French boy and his brother suck each other's faces off. It killed him, and he didn't know why. Making a silent exit and running as fast as he could, Alastair, for the first time in his life, felt lost.

**A/N**

**. Poor Kikrlands! In love and suffering – Owain, Alastair and Arthur, what poor kids XD  
Sorry there wasn't much USUK this chapter – what I'm planning on doing is to keep that going every chapter for maybe two or three more chapters, and then finally have a sort of failed-angsty sort of 'but I don't love you!' USUK chapter, if that makes sense X'D  
Aha ^^" with the last chapter I hope I didn't offend any French people o.o" I really love the French, you're awesome :D Alastair doesn't share my opinion though X'D  
Also, to _Ashley12chan_, thanks for the help with the name stuff :D I really have _no_ idea about Cuban names or surnames ^^" I just took something that sounded Cuban to me (as you can probably guess, I don't know much about Cuba XD) but, seeing as I've already called Carlos his name for now, to avoid confusion I'll keep it how it is, and then bear it in mind for future fics :D (same with Elizabeta :)) Thank you very much for that pointer!  
Thank you for your kind reviews! Wow! Seventy so far! That really makes me smile :D It may not be classed as a lot in retrospect to other fanfiction, but to me it feels 1,000,000 X'D I love you all! Keep them coming :D  
Next chapter'll be up soon! But it might not be tomorrow, as I re-watched the final harry potter movie, and am now crazing some Albus x Scorpius X'D**

**Love you all!**

**Byebye!**


	16. Three times heartbreak

**Chapter sixteen – Three times heartbreak**

"Owain, what the hell are you playing at!" Arthur shouted at his brother, not sure if he should chase after Alastair or deal with Owain and Francis, who were still entwined in a very French, very noisy kiss.

"I've got Alastair covered, Artie, don't worry 'bout it." Alfred smiled sympathetically, before skipping a little with his feet and setting off at a sprint after the Scottish boy.

Nodding, Arthur turned to face the rather unpleasant sight in front of him; suddenly realising he had no idea how to make them… _stop_. They were getting quite into the kiss, and it had turned from aggressive to needy and heated. Owain was now lying rather seductively on the metal steps as Francis prowled over him like some sort of cat.

Arthur cleared his throat awkwardly, attempting to get their attention. No response. He tried again, a little louder this time, but still no response. Getting more than a little annoyed that he was nothing more than scenery to the lustful pair.

"_For God's sake!" _Arthur finally shouted, his anger showing through, "Bloody _hell_ you two – get a room! But first I wish to speak with you!"

Finally they seemed to acknowledge Arthur presence, and looked up nonchalantly, acting as if Francis' hand _wasn't_ down Owain's skinny jeans, and Owain _wasn't_ feeling Francis' chest up.

"You need up, _mon cher?"_ Francis asked, as if he were merely sorting through paperwork.

"Yes I do bloody need you!" Arthur cried, frustrated, "And I'd prefer it if you weren't feeling my brother up!"

"Desperate times call for desperate measures." Owain answered this time, not looking his usual happy self.

That annoyed Arthur. A _lot._

"Owain Dafydd Kirkland!" Arthur cried, using Owain's middle name – they all knew they were in trouble when middle names were used, it was what their mother had taught them, "You go and complain that Alastair uses you or some shit like that, which is _obviously_ crap, and walk in on him and Elizabeth. Fair enough, you're allowed to be pissed – but if you give it back, then you're just as bad as or even _worse_ than him! He didn't know he was doing it, but you on the other hand, go and sought out Francis'… 'Friendship' in order to get Alastair back!"

Frowning, Owain sat up a little, glaring at his brother, "And why are you involved, Arthur? I thought you had your own problems about darling _Alfred."_

Arthur swore inwardly, he hated it when Owain got in these moods, "Bloody hell, Owain, we both know why I'm involved, and you have just got _Alastair _resorting to tears. And don't bring Alfred into this!"

"Well you stay out of it, then!" Owain shouted back, but Arthur saw his brother flinch slightly when he mentioned about Alastair crying, "Damn it, it's not like he didn't make _me_ cry – and what is there to cry about anyway?"

"Owain, _mon cher,_ I hate to admit it, but you're not really making sense." Francis whispered seductively, "We can continue this later, _oui?_ But I think for now you need to sort things out with Alastair. Two wrongs don't make a right, and as much as I miss your love, I would like to avoid being used only to get back at Alastair."

"I-I wasn't…!" Owain gasped, when Francis phrased it like _that_, "I-I'm sorry…"

"Don't worry, _mon cher_, now hurry to that Scottish idiot before he kills himself from lung cancer." Francis lifted his hands away from Owain, letting him escape from the stairs. Sending an apologetic look back at Francis and a thankful one at Arthur, Owain hurried off in the direction of Alfred and Alastair.

Sighing, Arthur joined Francis on the steps, "Thanks, frog."

Francis chuckled, "You've changed, Arthur."

"And what do you mean by that?"

"Nothing at all… it's a change for the better." Francis sighed, smiling, "You never used to be kind, and you never cared for others. And now you're sorting out a broken romance between your brothers. I know just why you've changed, too."

"Go on then, enlighten me with your all-knowing knowledge." Arthur drawled sarcastically, pretending to be indifferent about the matter, but couldn't ignore the nagging, curious feeling he got from Francis' words.

"Alfred F. Jones." Francis concluded, "Is exactly why you've changed. You've changed for him – you're in love with him, _non?"_

This was the prefect moment for Arthur to prove to himself that he _didn't _love Alfred. He could've started spewing excuse after excuse out of his mouth, cursing at Francis for being so stupid. He could've told the French boy that he was being absurd, and there was no way he was _in love_ with Alfred.

But for some reason, Arthur didn't do any of that. He didn't know if it was his girly side getting the better of him, or that it was because he was talking to Francis – the boy who he'd known since the age of three and had always argued with – or just because he was _tired_ of the internal argument.

Instead, Arthur just shook his head, staring at the floor, "I don't know…" He muttered quietly.

"Arthur, _mon cher_, being in love it not a bad thing." Francis actually seemed to be being _nice_, "Love is indeed the thing that makes the world go around, no matter how cliché that sounds. Love is only bad whenever you do not act upon it – rather than healing your heart, it strains it – breaking it. For love to make you feel happy, you need to realise you're in love first, and then you must tell that person that you love."

"Speaking from experience, are we?" Arthur chuckled awkwardly, trying to lighten the mood.

"Many, many years, _mon cher_." Francis sighed, obviously not in the right frame of mind for joking.

"You really are in love with him, aren't you?" Arthur muttered, looking after where Owain had left about five minutes earlier, "I always thought you were just in that relationship with him for the sex…"

"_Mon cher!_ I am hurt by your lack of faith in me! I'll have you know, I never forced anything upon dear Owain – I only made love to him whenever I got his consent many, many times." Francis said, placing his hand to his forehead and pretending to faint dramatically, "But yes, I was and still am, deeply in love with him."

Nodding, Arthur didn't reply, and just thought, "Wait a second, why are you seeking Matthew's attention, then?"

Francis shrugged, "The same reason Owain found me a second ago – rebound; to get back at the one you love."

"I don't get it." Arthur narrowed his large brows, "Explain."

Francis took a dramatic sigh, then launched into an explanation, "Okay, to let us imagine that Alastair and Owain both love each other, but are separated by the bounds of brotherhood."

"Without the fancy poetic addition, please."

"_Oui, oui,_ so they are separated by their blood. Whenever Alastair realised this, he went of to Elizabeth to attempt to amend his broken heart. But, because of the fact he is a lump of Scottish lead that doesn't understand or feel human emotions, he didn't understand that it would hurt dear Owain. Of course it hurt him, and finally he exploded, and the only thoughts on his mind were _how do I hurt Alastair?_ Of course the obvious answer was _moi~_ but little does everyone realise, I am in a situation of my own.

"You see, _mon cher,_ since last year when Owain very promptly broke up with me, my heart has been aching Owain's love, and yes, I admit I am still madly in love with him. But I did what Owain did – I thought to myself, _how can I get Owain jealous and want me back?_ My first answer was to get with someone else, so I chose Matthew, seemingly easy prey, and quite pretty. Of course, it didn't quite work as I planned, and Matthew would never get with me, but before I knew it, not only had I masked my hurt, making everyone think I was over Owain, I made _myself_ believe I was over him. Do you understand?"

"I _think_ so… So all this time with Matthew you were simply trying to get Owain jealous?" Arthur questioned, tapping his chin, "But obviously it didn't work."

"_Non, _of course it didn't."

"So you're still in love with my brother, although it _seems_ he's in love with Alastair."

"_Oui, _but we cannot jump to conclusions – we do not know that Owain is in love with his brother. I think it's safe to say there's 'affectionate feelings' there." Francis concluded.

"You know, frog, you're not half bad." Arthur muttered, "Hell, what's _wrong_ with me!"

"Touché, _mon cher~_ you yourself are not as annoying as I anticipated."

"Bugger off."

"I take it back."

Little did the French and English duo realise is that one of their conversation-ees was standing close by, a card in his hand. Matthew Williams had heard every word the two had said about him, and it had hurt. Especially after what'd happened that morning.

Matthew had finally realised that he was in love with Francis Bonnefoy.

* * *

"Alastair! Slow down, man!" Alfred was calling after the Scottish boy, who was still fleeing, "Why am _I _always the one doing the chasing around here?" Alfred muttered to himself.

This was the scene that had occurred right after Alastair had run off, while Arthur was coughing his lungs out at the embracing Owain and Francis. Alfred was having his own problems.

"Alastair! I need to talk to you! I know you can hear me, so slow _down!"_ Alfred shouted, now getting slightly annoyed.

The Scottish boy made no acknowledgement that Alfred even existed.

"Fine then!" Alfred cried in desperation, "You asked for it!"

Alfred sped up, running at his ultimate speed, edging closer and closer to Alastair, finally overtaking the red head. Once a substantial amount of distance had been made between the two, and threw his foot right where the Scot was planning on placing his, making the two of them tumble to the floor in a pile of limbs.

"What the fuck was that for!" Alastair demanded, trying to shove Alfred off the top of him.

"_You_ wouldn't slow down!" Alfred pointed out, "I need to talk to you!"

"There is _nothing_ to talk about, idiot." Alastair spat.

Growling, Alfred shifted his weight, "Yes there is! First of all, you can tell me what your feelings for Owain are!"

There was silence for a minute.

"I don't know, okay?" Alastair shouted, annoyed, "I don't fucking know…" He slumped down, curling up into a ball, "It's so fucking confusing…"

Alfred was surprised with Alastair's reaction and suddenly felt more than a little guilty about tackling the boy to the ground, "Look, Alastair, some people might say it's weird to fall in love with your half-brother, but in the end, does it really matter who you fall in love with? They're all people, and the Greeks did it, so whatever!"

"You idiot, I'm not _in _love with him. I just love him."

"Alastair that makes no sense."

"Yes it does, you're just stupid." Alastair growled, "What I mean is I feel affection for him, I want him to be mine and mine alone, but I don't want to… have well… _sex_ with him or anything. I just love him, but not in a lovers way."

"But clearly not in a brotherly way, either." Alfred pointed out, as Alastair nodded.

"I don't know what kind of love it is, I just know it's there."

The two sat in silence, and Alfred climbed off the Scottish boy's back, helping him to his feet and dusting their uniforms off, exchanging amused glances.

"This is fucked up…" Alastair sighed, leaning against a wall, lighting his cigarette.

"Alastair, life is fucked up, man." Alfred sighed, also leaning back on the wall.

"Alastair Kirkland put that cigarette _down_." Came a familiar voice, and the two boys looked up to see Owain marching up to them, snatching the alight cigarette right from Alastair's lips, dropping it to the floor and stamping on it to put it out, "You said you'd quit for me."

"Well, some people _lie_, Owain." Came Alastair's frosty reply.

Getting the feeling he probably wasn't welcome in the situation, Alfred stepped back a little, backing slowly off to give the two some privacy, but stayed close enough so he could swoop in and save the day if they began pummelling each other into the ground with their fists.

"Alastair, I know what I've done, and I'm sorry." Owain sighed, "But I heard everything you said then – don't you _understand?_ I feel the same way!" He pleaded, grabbing his brother's sleeve.

"Owain, do you know how weird hat would be?" Alastair spat on the floor.

"That's not what I want! I don't want a physical relationship – hell I don't even want a relationship! I just want to be how we were before, but with a little more hugging!" Owain begged, looking frustrated and close to tears.

"Yeah, but what're we going to do when one of us falls in love again?" Alastair narrowed his eyes, "And I still haven't forgiven you for that thing with Francis!"

Owain sighed dramatically, "I made a mistake, and I'm sorry, Alastair – but I can't reverse the past. You know what mother always used to say – there's no point in feeling guilty, because that can't change anything, so you may as well make sure that you never do the same thing again. I understand I was a dick, and that two wrongs don't make a right. I don't care what happens in the future, I just want us to be _us_. Right here, right now. Not worrying about something until it comes."

Alastair paused, watching his brother, "So you don't love Francis?"

"Never." Owain shook his head confidently.

The two locked gazes, pulling the other into a long, warm looking hug. It reminded Alfred of the hugs he'd seem between Feliciano and Ludwig – like there was a feeling of romance there, but for some reason that wasn't the nature of the hug. That they were protecting each other, and as Alastair had said, they loved each other, but weren't _in_ love with the other.

"I'm sorry, Al, so, _so_ sorry…" Owain cried into his brother's shoulder, clinging on for dear life.

"Sh… don't cry, you know I can't deal with tears." Alastair smiled fondly, stroking his brother's hair, "Let's live in the moment, as you say, we shouldn't worry about the past or the future."

"Ehh… There is a little something we should worry about, guys…" Alfred added nervously, not worried about breaking the moment.

"Shut it, Jones, I'm going to get annoyed with you in a minute for butting in." Alastair growled.

"But we just skipped the whole of sixth lesson, and that was with the head… he's not going to be too pleased"

"Shit." The two boys answered.

As if he'd summoned the devil, one very, very angry looking head teacher came walking their way right at that moment.

"Jones! Kirkland, Kirkland, my office _right now_."

Groaning at getting rumbled the three boys trailed inside, muttering '_yes sir'_s, but Alfred smiled to himself when he saw that Owain and Alastair's hands stayed glued together the entire journey to the office.

* * *

"Emily? Emily is that you?"

"Yes, it's me, but hell Matthew, what do you want? You almost got me chucked out of lessons! What're you doing on your phone? I thought you were still in school?"

"I am, I am, I'm just… skipping…"

"Matthew! Go back to class right now!"

"No! The head will _kill_ me! I'll pretend I was ill or something, but I need to talk to you about something. Something important."

Matthew had quickly fled from the scene under the escape stairs, tears welding up in his eyes, grasping his phone to his ear almost painfully, "I was thinking about what you said to me the other day, about being gay and stuff, and how I shouldn't assume who I am and stuff…. And well, the other day I kissed a guy."

"What! Who was it!" Emily demanded, suddenly very into the conversation.

"It wasn't anyone I liked or anything – actually it was two; Kiku Honda and Alfred Jones." The Canadian blushed, glad Emily couldn't see his face.

There was a confused pause, "What? Why were you kissing them two?"

"It was a stupid game – spin the bottle or something."

"O-Oh." Emily muttered, it seemed by her sudden silence she had some unpleasant memories surrounding that game as well, "Go on."

"Well, I have to admit, kissing guys felt better than kissing girls."

"Thanks." She teased, joking.

"You know what I mean! So yeah, I was think about what you were saying, about being straight and gay and stuff, and I'm pretty sure I'm that one where you like both… bi-something?"

"Bisexual?"

"Yes! That! But then, I wasn't sure, because it's not like there's a guy I'm in love with – or that's what I thought. The next bit sounds really stupid…" Matthew muttered, "Over the past few weeks, I've been spending time around Francis, and thinking about what I've been feeling. I… went online and googled 'what does love feel like?' and… it kinda sounds like I'm in love."

There were muffled giggled from the other side, "Oh Matthew, that's adorable! But you know, you shouldn't say you're in love with someone just because Google says you are."

"No, no! I know that. But once I thought about being in love with Francis it _did _make a little more sense – like how I always feel happy when I'm with him, and that, although he sexually harasses me, it _does_ feel good." Matthew whispered shamelessly, "It's taken me three weeks, but I think I can safely say that I have at least _some_ feelings for Francis."

"Well, great! Go and tell him!" You could hear the smile in her voice, but she paused at Matthew's silence, "There's something wrong, isn't there?"

Matthew tried to keep his sobs from escaping, and managed to do it quite successfully, "I-I was going to tell Francis that I liked him; the head saw that Francis and the others weren't in sixth lesson, so told me to go and find them… I don't know what came over me, but I suddenly got this wave of confidence, and before I knew it, I ran back to my room, and scribbled a little card to Francis that I was going to give him when I confessed."

"Go on…"

"But, when I found him, he was talking to Arthur about… something…" Matthew paused, calming himself down with some deep breaths, "And… long story short… Francis is still in love with Owain. He never had feelings for me, and never will. He was using me to get back at Owain."

There was silence for a second, as Emily listened to Matthew's sobs through the line, "You stay put, okay? I'll be over in an hour. I'll meet you in your room. Don't go anywhere. I'm going to sort this out, Mattie."

Matthew nodded, then realised she couldn't see him and muttered a heartbroken little 'yes', and hung up.

Why was everyone so confused and heartbroken?

**A/N  
****Woop! Another chapter complete :D  
By accident I seem to have three couples we're following now X'D Of course there's Alfred and Arthur, then Alastair and Owain, and now Matthew and Francis. X'D I actually planned for Feli and Ludwig to have a bigger part o.o" Oh well! Their time will come soon, hopefully!**

**So next chapter I'll round up the stuff with these lot (but still leave it on going in the background) and soon some major USUK or UKUS (haven't decided yet XD) will be on it's way!**

**What's to happen with Owain and Alastair?  
Simple answer – you'll have to wait and see :D**

**Thank you for your kind reviews! Love you all! **

**Byebye!**


	17. A proposal not only of war

**Chapter seventeen – A proposal not only of war**

Emily kept her promise _very_ well, as just as an hour ticked past (Matthew wasn't timing it…) there was a sharp rap on his door. Running to open it, Matthew quickly bustled Emily inside; making sure no one could see her.

"How did you get past the gates?" Matthew was worried – he didn't want Emily to get in trouble for trespassing on his behalf.

"Easy – all it took was a hairpin!" She winked, "Kidding, I'm not that awesome – I just climbed over it!"

Weighing his head either way in indifferent agreement, Matthew sat down on his bed, signalling for Emily to do the same, "So… why did you come here, again?"

Emily raised an eyebrow higher than Matthew thought possible, "You seriously asking me that! It's to kick that frog's face in! I also owe him a punch for capturing Francesca. And that Scottish bloke for getting Elizabeth smitten again…"

"I-I wouldn't really blame Alastair for that…" Matthew muttered, trying to stick up for his classmates, "But that doesn't really matter at the minute. Don't hit Francis! You'll get into _heaps_ of trouble!"

"Eh, what's new? Mattie, you are talking to the Robin Hood of Coverack Girl's School! I help the damsels in distress, and you seem like a bit of a damsel, no?" She grinned roughly, her rougher side showing. Matthew couldn't help but conjure up an image of Alfred and his ideas of heroes at her words.

"J-Just don't get into trouble on my part, okay?" Matthew said in a whisper, hugging his bear close to him.

Sighing, Emily looked at the bear, "Man, Mattie, this _must_ be bad… You hardly ever hug Kumajiro these days; you said he was only for when you're 'really, really sad'."

"His fur absorbs tears. It's useful." He muttered, hiding his face in the fur. At his words, Emily attacked him with a hug, shouting about how cute he was.

"Mattie, I'll sort this out! Don't worry, honey! Come on, let's go and find some _escar go_, okay?"

Matthew nodded sheepishly, following her out of the door, still hugging Kumajiro with one arm while holding Emily's hand with the other.

* * *

Meanwhile, Francis and Arthur were back to their usual selves, slowly walking back to their dorm rooms. Their previously civil, mature selves were well and truly gone and they were drawing an awful lot of attention to themselves.

"Just because I'm the ambassador of love does _not_ mean I have to be sexually active at all hours of the day!" Was Francis' heated reply to whatever insult Arthur had shouted at him first.

"No one calls you the 'ambassador of love', idiot! You just came up with that name yourself and decided it suited you; well, you _suck_ at romantic affairs!" Arthur growled, getting more and more annoyed.

Francis chucked, flicking a strand of golden hair behind his shoulder, "Ah, _mon cher_, you have never experienced my romance! How on _earth_ do you even know the meaning of romance? I bet you haven't even been kissed!"

Pausing and blushing slightly, Arthur avoided the boy's gaze, "As a matter of fact, I have!"

It was amusing how close Francis came to falling over at the Briton's words, "What! Who'd kiss _you_ when they could have someone as lovely as _moi?_ Unless it was one of your unicorns – or did you pay someone to do it?"

"Shut it, frog! Only you have to do that!" Arthur shouted; face burning, "You just can't accept that I've actually been accepted by society!"

"Hah! I know Alfred Jones has a bit of a narcissistic personality, but to call him the entire of society would be a bit of a stretch!" The French boy began his 'ohon' laughing.

"I've been accepted by more people than Alfred! I-I think, anyway…" Arthur muttered the last part quietly.

"Oh yes, of course, _mon cher~_ if you come with me _I'll_ show you what it's _really_ like to be accepted…" Francis said, licking the tips of his fingers mischievously.

Cheeks burning and eyes wide, Arthur frantically searched for something to throw at Francis' grinning face. He failed, and settled for throwing words at him instead, "I – would – never – have – sexual – contact – with – _you!"_ He shouted the detached words, attempting to punch Francis' chest with every word. He wasn't too strong, though, and Francis caught his wrist mid-punch.

"Oh hon, _mon cher, _I would have no form of sexual relationship with _you_ either – I thought you British were meant to understand sarcasm? The only person that would have 'sexual contact' as you put it would be Alfred! Even then you'd have to beg!"

_That _annoyed Arthur. Finally building up the momentum to throw a half-decent punch at the almost-bearded pervert, he raised his skinny arm, getting ready to punch the French boy.

Even _more_ annoyingly was that someone had beaten him to it.

Francis let out a grunt of pain as the fist connected from behind him – a very powerful punch to the back of the neck. He fell to the floor almost into Arthur's arms, if the Brit hadn't deliberately dropped him) and Arthur met eyes with the person that had stolen his revenge off him.

"That was for Mattie!" The person said, triumphantly.

"You!" He cried when he saw the grinning figure, "You took my revenge!"

"Hate to break it to ya, Eyebrows, but I think _everyone_ wants revenge on his idiot, and I got here before you!" Emily winked happily

"_No you didn't!"_ He cried a little bewildered at the girl's confidence.

"Anyway, what did he do to you to make you want revenge?" Emily asked nonchalantly.

Spluttering slightly at the question, Arthur glared at the figure of Francis on the floor, wishing he had the guts to kick the slowly recovering French boy, "More like what _hasn't _he done to me. What about you?"  
"Not me personally," Emily smiled, and then Arthur noticed she was repeatedly tapping Francis with the heel of her show – though 'tapping' was a little bit of an understatement - it was more of a 'stamping', "I'm getting revenge for Mattie. While I'm here I may as well get revenge for Francesca, and hey, may as well give him your revenge too! Three annoying French birds all crushed with an awesome American rock!"

"I don't know if that's barbaric or brilliant…" Arthur muttered, slightly starry-eyed.

"You awake now, Frenchie?" Emily smiled evilly as Francis rose to his feet, "Sorry, but it's not time to wake up, yet!" and again, her hand met with the back of his neck, making him tumble to the ground once more, her foot still kicking him, "That one was for Francesca…"

Once Francis rose again, he fell right back down just like before, Emily still nonchalantly kicking him, "And that was for Arthur! There we go; debt paid! Now I just need to find that Scottish bastard and report back to Matthew."

Hurrying to keep op with her, Arthur scurried along side the American, "You know, Alastair didn't _really_ realise what he was doing with Elizabeth, Emily. He was just… letting out his sexual frustration?"

"Ah, don't start another war with us, Eyebrows! Elizabeth is currently back at the dorm planning how she can infiltrate the grounds and propose to your brother – if he rejects her I don't think tomatoes will be hard enough this time. Perhaps battle of the potatoes… Then again they don't really '_splat'_, they just bounce off you…" The girl began musing what food should be thrown in the inevitable war that was yet to come.

"I thought we got over that childish stuff?" Arthur groaned, remembering how Francis had committed mutiny last time, and began splattering his own troops with the tomatoes.

"That's it! We need eggs! They'd hurt more than tomatoes, but still crack!" Emily cried, impressed with her sudden realisation, "Come on, Eyebrows! We're going to find your brother and give him a taste of his own medicine!"

"B-But! Wait! I'm not on your side! Emily Jones! Slow _down!_"

She ignored his protests.

* * *

"Man that sucked."

"Understatement."

"I hope they don't send letters home…"

Alfred, Alastair and Owain had finally been let free from the grasps of the headmaster, who hadn't been at all sympathetic at the fact that they'd had something _very_ important to sort out, which is why they weren't in their English class. The head had said that they were making pitiful excuses, and they'd been given detentions for the whole of Sunday. Talk about sucking big-time.

"Well, it was worth it to get you two sorted out!" Alfred grinned at Alastair and Owain, who smiled back bashfully.

"Thanks, Alfie…" Owain muttered at his friend, tightening his grip on Alastair's hand. It wasn't _that_ weird… siblings hold hands all the time, "I don't know _what_ you sorted us out into, but it's sorted."

"Aye." Alastair said in agreement, grinning at Alfred, "Maybe we'll have to return the favour and help you out with little Artie."

"That's a great idea!" Owain exclaimed, now excited at the match-making job they'd been given, "You two're going to be such a cute couple!"

Eyes widening, Alfred raised an eyebrow at the brothers, "What are you two _on_ about? I'm not getting with Artie! Sure, he's cute, but I like boobs! If anyone it would be _Elizabeth…"_

"Don't even go there, American!" A new voice came from behind them, "And I though you were awesome!"

"Emily?" Alastair, Owain and Alfred all turned around, tilting their heads in confusion on why the perky girl was standing behind them, with Arthur cowering in her shadow.

She placed a hand on her perfectly curved hip, "Found you, Alastair! I owe you a little something for the other day!"

Glad that he would be gaining something out of the situation, Alastair tilted his head in question, "Oh? And what do I owe the pleasure?"

"You screwed with Lizzie again!" Emily's grin could have been seen as friendly or murderous, but no one was quite sure.

"Ah. Yes, her." Alastair simply said, suddenly realising that he probably _wouldn't_ be gaining anything from the situation, apart from perhaps a broken nose.

"You know what happens now, right?" She asked all too happily, "But this time there's a catch! Next week, Lizzie's going to slip into the school, and propose to you!"

There was silence for a second.

Then there was a great roar of laughter from Alastair, Owain, and Alfred.

"Nice one, Emily, you can try and scare me, but hell I'm not that gullible! Elizabeth just thinks she's in love – she'll get over it!" Alastair's chuckles were finally dying down a little, but Alfred was still keeled over at the image of Alastair in a suit, bow tie and top hat, waiting at the alter for Elizabeth in a pure white wedding dress.

"Oh, I _love_ it how you think I'm joking, you Scottish twat!" Emily had that same, murderously happy smile painted on her face again, "Look – she bought a ring for you to give her!"

"Who _does_ that? I didn't know girls were allowed to propose over here – I thought that was only in America?" Alastair's eyebrows furrowed, suddenly not finding the situation so funny. He still didn't _believe _it, like.

"Of course not, you sexist little-!" Emily cried, only to be held back by Arthur.

"Calm it, Emily, he's only an idiot. Not many women propose over here, as the British are more children of tradition. You Americans are a little more… original." Arthur said diplomatically.

"That better not be some sort of codeword for stupid!" Alfred interjected.

Growling, Alastair was getting annoyed, "Can we get back to the point, please! I don't believe you, but why the hell does Elizabeth plan on proposing to me?"

Shifting her weight on to her hips, Emily grinned, "Because her love for you is undying and she wants to spend her whole life with you! There's dress catalogues back at my dorm, I'll go and get them if you don't believe me." Her voice was deadly serious.

Alastair then realised that Emily was indeed _telling the truth_.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." He cursed repeatedly.

"I told you that you shouldn't have slept with her!" Owain cried almost triumphantly, and then felt bad, "Well, just reject her, okay?"

"Ah! That was also what I meant to tell you about! You lot had better stock up on your eggs, because once Alastair rejects her, we'll be declaring full on war with you guys again, okay? This time it shall be christened 'The Fight of the Chickens and their Eggs' – the chickens symbolise not only the givers of our eggs, but also the fact that every single boy in this school, apart from Mattie of course, is indeed a chicken." Emily concluded happily.

"Wait! You've got to tell her to stop being so stupid!" Alastair begged, looking ready to collapse.

"No can do, sweetie! Your sex, your problems. Think before you fuck." Emily did a miniature salute, "I'd better report back to Mattie! _Au revoir,_ honey!"

"Don't you start speaking French too" Arthur growled at her as she ran off, "Well this kind of sucks. Anyone know anyone with any egg connections?"

"My dad has a farm?" Owain suggested, "I could tell him we're holding some sort of egg-festival or something…"

"What school has an _egg festival?" _Alastair furrowed his eyebrows together.

Alfred shrugged, "We had hamburger festivals."

"Yes, but you're _American."_ The three Kirklands chorused.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Alfred, demanded, pouting and turning his back childishly to the three, "America is a great country!"

Ignoring him, the boys began to walk inside, silently thinking about their own problems. Arthur was worried about what he'd heard Alfred say whenever Emily was creeping up behind them; 'I'm not getting with Artie! Sure, he's cute, but I like boobs! If anyone it would be _Elizabeth'… _Arthur had never really thought of the possibility of Alfred being straight. Sure, the American had admitted it enough, but something (Arthur's pretty fairy voice) had always convinced him that Alfred had been conversing, and that deep down, he _did_ like guys as well. But for some reason, now after him saying he'd choose _Elizabeth_ over him, it felt an awful lot more certain that he was indeed straight.

Alastair was more worried about what he'd brought back by sleeping with that god forsaken girl. He thought all of this crap had been over last year! But no, apparently not. Though of course he only had himself and his selfish reasons to blame. He hadn't _meant_ to sleep with her. It just _happened._

Owain was bothered about the fact that he was holding hand with his brother and that it didn't feel weird. What was going to happen with the two of them? Obviously soon enough one of them would fall in love with someone else, and all this weird stuff would be over. But until then, they'd just carry on like they were before, just a little more hugging, a little more hand-holding, and the occasional kiss on the forehead. That would be okay, right…?

Alfred was worried about what he was going to have for dinner.

* * *

"Mission accomplished, comrade!" Emily burst through the door to Matthew's dorm, and was met with a rather odd scene.

The small Japanese boy, Kiku she thought his name was, was strewn out across his own bed, being pinned down by a very tall, _very_ sexy Greek boy. If Emily could remember correctly it was Heracles Karpusi, a boy in Year eleven. Obviously they had a thing for each other.

"Matthew went outside, said he wanted something to eat. I think he was lying though… I think I scared him off when I started kissing Kiku…" Heracles mused nonchalantly, returning to kiss the now blushing Kiku.

"Ah! Emily-san, I do apologise! I should've locked the door! Heracles and I were just… Ehh… just… discussing certain topics." Kiku panicked.

"Of course you were!" Emily chuckled, bewildered about how terrible an excuse Kiku had come up with, "Enjoy yourselves, you two!"

And with that she closed the door, giggling behind her hand as she ran off to find Matthew, regretting that she hadn't taken a picture.

After locating and explaining to Matthew what had happened with the affairs of Francis' revenge, the two sat in silence, just staring at each other.

"So do I get a thank you?" Emily said, chuckling, not really being serious.

Matthew didn't respond, he was just staring at the same spot, head buried deep in Kumajiro's fur, "I don't think I did the right thing…" He began. Emily stayed silent, letting him continue in his own time.

"I mean, yeah, I like him, and I can admit that, but I can't exactly force him to love me back. Everyone _knows_ that Francis is the flirt of the school, and that if he 'confesses his love' to you, you can't really expect much to come of it. Hell, he's probably told _everyone_ he has feeling for them at least once… Even Arthur." Matthew sighed, "Actually he never even _said_ he loved me… he was always trying to get me to kiss him… that was all he wanted…"

"Matthew, none of this is your fault, okay? It's his fault for being a perverted flirt, and he needs to learn from his mistakes. I agree, you can't force him to love you, but surely can't you persuade him? Either that or you need to get over him completely." Emily smiled comfortingly, holding his hand.

Suddenly, a new voice joined, "You need him to get over Frenchie? Count on the awesome me!"

"Gilbert?" Emily and Matthew asked in unison, turning around to find Gilbert standing behind Matthew, grinning like an idiot.

"Francis was seducing you to make Owain jealous, right? So I can seduce you to make him jealous!" Gilbert grinned, pleased with his logic.

Groaning, Matthew sighed, "I can see this getting complicated…"

"C'mon, Mattie! Come on a date with me this Saturday, yeah? We don't even have to go as a couple! Just come with me – then if it makes Francis jealous, great! But if it doesn't, then you're one step further to getting over him! It's logical! C'mon Mattie~" Gilbert begged, and Matthew knew that if he had a tail, it'd be wagging at an alarming rate.

"I have a feeling that somehow I'm going to regret this, but okay. I'll go on a date with you, Gilbert." Matthew sighed, letting Gilbert pull him into a gigantic hug.

"Yes! I won! The awesome me will never loose! You will have the time of your life on Saturday, Francis or no Francis! Prepare to be swept off your feet, my little Maple Leaf!"

And with that, the German was gone.

"You boys are all a bunch of idiots." Emily muttered, rubbing her temples, "Don't get too carried away with him, alright? I wouldn't give up on Francis too soon… Then there's always Carlos…"

Matthew made an 'X' in the air with his arms, "No, no, I don't want to get him involved as well…"

"I think he already is, honey."

"What's that supposed to mean!" Matthew asked, following her as she got to her feet, walking towards the school gate.

"Nothing! Nothing at all, I'd better get back to school though, sweetie. Call me if you need me! And I'll give you some tips for Saturday, right? Enjoy yourself!"

And with that, Emily ran off, leaving Matthew confused and unsure what had just happened.

**A/N**

**Woop! Another chapter :D hope you enjoyed~ thank you if you've reviewed in the past or plan on reviewing~  
A few people have said they don't like the incest element, and have stopped reading because of that, and were worried that it might cause me some offence – but really, I do understand – I don't feel hurt or upset that you've stopped reading, I understand completely, as sometimes incest creeps some people out XD You don't have to be sorry – but I can't say that I'll stop writing small hints of incest, as it is kinda a major part of the Fanfic now~ :) **

**As for the Alastair/Owain situation, as Owain said, they're just gunna be like before, but a little bit cuddlier X3 hooray for fluff~**

**We has USUK (or UkUs… still haven't decided..!) next chapter peoples! Be excited XD kidding, but still yay! **

**Took me long enough ._."**

**Bye for now!**


	18. The Princess Arthuretta

**Chapter eighteen – The Princess Arthuretta **

The next day had begun quite normally in comparison to the previous day's confusion. Everyone rose peacefully and made their way to their lessons without much of a problem – even Francis was keeping quiet. Alastair had managed to get the word round to stock up on eggs, and Gilbert was well on his way making plans for Saturday and his one chance to convince Matthew to date him.

It was fifth and sixth lesson where the usual chaos broke out again. They had double drama with Mrs. Chernenko, Coach Braginski's older sister from Ukraine. Mrs. Chernenko was famed around the south of England for her legendary measurements, and _why_ she was working in an all-boy's school was beyond anyone's knowledge – after all, with a bunch of hormone-crazed, sexually-starved teenage boys something was _bound_ to happen. And of course it had – there were always incidents of people running into her, 'accidentally' throwing their hands out in an eccentric fashion and not knowing she was standing beside them. That and Francis constantly flirted with her.

Today, Mrs. Chernenko had decided that they were going to perform a play. The week previously she'd set homework for everyone to write a simple, two-to-four page long love story, and choose two people from the class for their leading role. Of course, everyone had gone mad with this idea, and had been torturous to their classmates, writing the soppiest lines they could think of, and coming up with the weirdest combinations of leading roles. Then, the one with the most votes off the class was performed.

Arthur's masterpiece had been written for the courtesy of Lovino and Antonio; Arthur _loved_ watching Antonio getting attacked by Lovino when he was too soppy, and it was an amazing form of revenge, providing Antonio didn't enjoy it too much. He decided that he was going to win, not only because he was the best at English, but he had a head start! Chick-flicks and romantic novels really _did_ have a second use other than advice.

Once Mrs. Chernenko had gone around the class and read aloud everyone's plays (this earned an awful lot of sniggering and grins from the boys) and everyone decided whose play they preferred. It was all held anonymously, in case anyone did 'biased votes'. In the end, the top three were Arthur's (naturally) Kiku's (it was heavily influenced by anime stereotypes and cliché ideas) and Francis' (In his own words 'only a true love story can be written by one who can speak the language of love!')

"So you boys have selected three plays!" Mrs. Chernenko addressed the class, her usual calming smile washing a wave of comforting air around the class, "I can tell you now that they were written by Arthur, Kiku, and Francis. The actors that each have nominated are as follows – Antonio and Lovino are to act out Arthur's play, Feliciano and Ludwig to do Kiku's, and Arthur and Alfred for Francis' play! You can choose extras as you will, and they will all be performed at the end~" A darker air came around her voice, "If anyone fails to follow the script, or sits around doing nothing, I'll make sure Coach Braginski finds out about it, okay?"

With that threat in mind, everyone ran off to a corner of a room, choosing what play to help out in. Arthur and Alfred grabbed Francis' play, reading through it and headed over to the quietest corner of the room, giving each other worried looks.

"Whose _idea_ was this!" Arthur groaned, "I am going to _kill_ that frog! Look, he's got me playing the female role…! I knew I should've written my play for him and Ludwig or something like that…"

"Well, hate to tell ya, Artie, but I defiantly don't plan on getting a detention off Coach Braginski! I've already got one on Sunday with the head, and I can imagine that Braginski's punishments are an awful lot worse than your average writing lines." Alfred sighed, flipping through the script as Francis waltzed over to assist with the directing.

An hour later, Mrs. Chernenko clapped her hands loudly, gaining everyone's attention and called them over to stand around her.

"Okay, boys, we now should have three complete plays, no?" She smiled warmly, her evil aurora from before gone, when there were no objections, her smile grew, "Good! Now, can I have Francis' group up here? I must say I'm looking forward to this one… I might even film it!"

Groaning, Arthur and Alfred exchanged glances, dreading what was to come. They knew they were digging their own grave – they'd gone through the play, and knew that it was absolutely _terrible_, and sounded like a horrendous attempt of combining all the famous fairy stories of the world. But then, it was the choice between social suicide and _actual_ suicide out on the sports field, and they both knew exactly which one they preferred.

They took their places, Francis watching from the side, a mischievous gleam in his eye as Peter, who'd decided to be the narrator, began.

"Long ago there was a legendary country of the world – they said it was the country to rule all countries, it had power, wealth, beauty and elegant understanding. This country was of course a country called 'France'. In this hypnotically mysterious land there was a castle – the largest castle anyone had ever laid eyes on, called Montreuil Bellay. This beautiful castle had been taken over by the evil British family that sought to destroy France and all its glory. In Montreuil Bellay lived their youngest daughter, Arthuretta Kirkland."

A light shone on Arthur, who was wearing a fluffy pink dress Francis had forced him into moments before. There was a mutual snigger exchanged between the class but no one said anything. Yet.

Peter continued wit his rather monotonous narration, "Arthuretta Kirkland was not a very special princess – she was not rich, or beautiful, or by any means rich. Not to mention her God awful eyebrows, but Arthuretta's secrete was a very sneaky one – she could use magic!"

"Double, double, toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldron bubble…" Arthur growled out the Shakespearian words, stirring an invisible cauldron in the air, "Oh woe betide, I have fallen in love! How on earth can I ever manage? I have no beauty in comparison to all the French monarchies I am shadowed by. How can I ever make my prince love me back? Ah, the ache my heart feels!" Though every word Arthur said sounded like a robot. His highlight was _writing _plays, not acting them.

"Little did the poor princess know, is that the prince she had fallen in love with was _also _in love with her. Prince Alfred of the Kingdom of America wasn't the brightest price (hence why he fell in love with Princess Arthuretta) and constantly sought her attention daily. Unluckily for him, Arthuretta was too busy brewing a love potion to woo her beloved." Peter was sniggering along with the rest of the class at this point.

A light then shone on Alfred, who was just wearing his school shirt, and standing beside Alastair, both looking rather troubled, "Ah, my fellow prince, I have fallen in love…" Alfred spoke, an air of formality and importance in his voice. Little did everyone know, he was actually quite good at this stuff.

"Aye, I know the feeling, comrade." Alastair sighed, "There is the beautiful Princess Owaina, though she had been taken away by the ruler of this land, the mighty, great and handsome Francis – King of France. I will never be able to live up to such power – I will forever be heartbroken…"

Little did everyone know, Francis was mouthing the words from his corner, grinning to himself as he heard them act out his masterpiece.

"I am in love with your sister, Prince Alastair – Princess Arthuretta. She is beautiful, and has a sweet fragrance of scones constantly surrounding her. I hope to make her my bride" There was a faltering in Alfred's words as he said the last part.

"Why on _earth_ would you want to marry _her?_ She is as ugly as the day is long!" Alastair chuckled, sounding genuine.

"That is not true! She has an amazing air of mystery, and I love her! But, alas, she has no time for me… whenever I go to visit her, she constantly avoids me, her face always the bright red colour of roses – she is of course angry with me, though I don't know what I have done… her head is always buried in her spell book."

Sighing, Alastair rose to his feet, "You don't have to watch her dance with another man, comrade! Though fear not – I have a plan as to how you can…seduce her." The crowd sniggered as Arthur began spluttering from across the room (they had no time to prepare a set) "All you need to do is prepare for the great masquerade ball to be held here tomorrow night!"

"Little did Prince Alfred know, Princess Arthuretta had begun planning to slip her love potion to him that same night at the masquerade ball. Both head over heals in love with the other, and innocent to the knowledge, Arthuretta and Alfred spent that night dreaming of one another and the masquerade ball that next night…" Peter was starting to sound a little bored.

A light shone again, and Alfred was holding an extravagant mask to his face, shielding his eyes. Owain and Francis had joined the set, Francis grinning all-too-happily as he began to dance with the Welsh boy, Alastair glaring at the two, both as his fictional character and his real feelings. Everyone, audience and 'actors' alike sniggered when Arthur appeared, wearing a Halloween monster mask.

"The Princess, being a little dim, did not understand the idea of a 'masquerade ball', you see. She thought all you did was put on a mask! But luckily for her, her innocents made the Prince fall in love with her even more, for being so 'innocent, naïve and refreshing' in the Prince's own words." Peter continued.

Arthur and Alfred's eyes met from across the hall, both sharing a look of 'oh hell, I'm sorry' as they knew _exactly_ what scene was coming next. Francis' play had been short, thank god, but that didn't mean that he was letting them get away without your average, terrible, fairy tail ending.

"The moment the Prince and Princess laid eyes on each other from behind their masks, they knew that no seducing or love potion was needed to make the other fall in love with them." Peter yawned animatedly, "They knew the other was already in love with them."

"Arthuretta!" Alfred came very close to calling Arthur by his real name as he ran across the 'dance floor' to grasp Arthur's hand, "I am in love with you!"

At that it wasn't only Francis' snigger that could clearly be heard around them.

"Prince Alfred… I-I-I…" Arthur stuttered, not caring that in the script the stage direction had be '_words said with confidence, Princess flings herself on Prince'._ He couldn't say the words!

Improvising time, Alfred groaned – they couldn't let Mrs. Chernenko know that they couldn't say the lines, "What is it, my princess? Is something troubling you?"

Arthur caught on immediately, knowing that Alfred was buying him time to get his act together and say the words, "I-I err… Yes! Something is bothering me… The stupid frog-king of this land is forever calling me ugly, and seducing my best friend, Princess Owaina. I am worried that he has rabies, and will infect anyone he touches." Arthur wiped away a fake tear, getting quite into his role.

Francis was about to shout at the two of them, telling them to follow the script, but realised if he did they'd be owed a detention with Braginski, "How dare you, you Eyebrow princess! No one will ever love _you _and your terrible taste in masks!"

Arthur ripped off the Halloween mask, glaring at Francis, "There, is that better for you?"

"No! Now I can see your terrible face!"

"Why you…!" Arthur's true self was starting to show through again.

Alfred grabbed his wrist, rescuing them from Mrs. Chernenko's suspicion again, "Princess Arthuretta, I have something I wish to ask you."

Blushing at the change of mood, Arthur kept hold of Alfred's gaze, "Y-yes oh dear prince?" He was following the script again now.

Getting down onto one knee (and a few flashed of cameras from the audience) Alfred could feel his face burning with embarrassment as he stuttered on his lines, "W-will you marry me?"

Sending a murderous glare Francis' way, and then returning his gaze to Alfred's, Arthur tried to project his voice, but failed and ended up only whispering, "Y-Yes."

"And so, the Prince and the Princess' wedding was held only the next day! They found each others love, despite their terrible personalities and eyebrow problems, and slowly fell in love, and were to have many children." Peter added in the last part for his own amusement, watching Arthur splutter.

"I love you, my Prince." Arthur finally managed to say the words, as they acted out their wedding.

"I love you too, Artie!" Alfred grinned, all too naturally, and then realised the use of his best friend's nickname, "Ehh! I mean Artie… Etta?" He tried, wincing, and he knew that he would be quoted on that in the not-too-distant future.

"You may kiss the bride!" Francis eyed the two with a triumphant, evil gaze, as he acted out his role of minister of the church.

And, to avoid their death on the sports field, Arthur and Alfred had no choice to do exactly that. The kiss was indeed robotic, and only a pack on the lips, but either way it got the whole class either rolling on the floor or whooping in encouragement. Arthur quickly pulled away from Alfred, burying his face in his hands and running off-stage.

The lights were flicked back on, and Mrs. Chernenko came back on, clapping and laughing, "Very good, you lot, a little cliché, I must say, Francis? And maybe a _little _biased on your country's history. And I don't remember reading out that part in the middle. But good job on the improvising! Alfred, I'd go and make sure Arthur isn't evaporating due to rise of body heat – as for everyone else, its Kiku's group's turn!"

Alfred did just that, running into the little room where the costumes were kept where he found Arthur, hugging his knees, the dress removed and wearing his shirt and trousers.

"That was so embarrassing…" Arthur muttered into his knees when he saw Alfred joining him.

"Naw… just a bit of fun, right?" Alfred chuckled, ruffling Arthur's hair and not noticing the blush that erupted onto the boy's face.

"It was! Francis _knew_ we'd be forced to act it out… I'm going to bloody _kill_ him!" Arthur growled, clenching his fists, "Social suicide…"

Shrugging, Alfred casually slung an arm around Arthur, "Better than Braginski, no?"

Arthur nodded reluctantly.

They sat in silence for a while, listening to Feliciano's whines to Ludwig about how _their_ fictional wedding wasn't big enough.

"That was the worst written play I've ever read…" Arthur chuckled, "At least the one_ I _wrote had a little symbolism in."

Alfred raised an eyebrow, chuckling, "Oh yeah? You'll have to show it me sometime. Maybe we could act it out, even?"

Arthur wasn't entirely sure, but he realised with a jolt that it _sounded_ like Alfred was… _flirting_ with him. He didn't know what _real_ flirting sounded like – after all, all the stuff he knew were from books even worse than Francis' play, but by the playful tone, the double-meaning words and the almost _seductive_ grin on the boy's face, Arthur couldn't be sure.

So he decided to do his best and flirt back. It was logical, surely?

"I would like that." He smiled at his friend, meeting his gaze, and shuffled closer into the boy, turning it into an almost hug. Arthur grinned as he felt Alfred stiffen beside him. What he also knew about Alfred is that the boy _did not_ like to be beaten, and this should only spur him on further.

"You made quite a cute little princess, you know~" Alfred chucked, ruffling Arthur's hair, "Pink suits you!" Arthur's prediction had been right!

"Why thank you. You made quite the dashing prince yourself." Arthur could feel his nerves returning.

Alfred shook his head, grinning, "Nah, I don't like the Prince image – they're too flirtatious" Hah! That was rich! "I much prefer the idea of being a hero! Then I could go and save damsels in distress – like you up on your castle tower, letting down your golden locks for a prince to climb up~"

Grinning at the memory of Emily saying something similar, Arthur leaned in a little further to Alfred's body, "Well, seeing as you don't like princes, the only people I'd let climb up my 'golden locks' would be heroes."

"Is that a dare, Artie?" Alfred grinned, tugging on a little strand of Arthur's untidy golden hair, "It's a little bit short – there's not much to climb up~ I'll help you style it when you grow it, though!"

Arthur drew an 'X' in the air with his finger, "Nope, last time I tried growing my hair, I looked like a caterpillar."

"Seriously? You grew your hair!" Alfred looked as if he were about to keel over laughing, "That's priceless! Why!"

"Francis dared me. I've got a picture I can show you if you really want to see it." Arthur grinned.

Suddenly there was a sharp knocking on the cupboard door, and the muffled voice of Mrs. Chernenko came through the wood, "If you two have quite finished your mindless flirting in there, I wouldn't mind if you joined us again – we do have a drama lesson to attend to here!" Her tone was nice enough, but it still made the pair lurch away from each other and their cheeks burn.

"Yes Miss…" They chorused, quickly throwing their school ties and blazers on, emerging bashfully from the cupboard door, cheeks burning as they met everyone's very amused eyes.

"Hah! Jones and Kirkland are coming out of the closet!" Cried a random boy, cracking the very, _very_ obvious joke as everyone grinned.

Narrowing his eyes, Arthur turned up his nose, "Yes, yes, absolutely _hilarious._ I didn't see that coming in one million years!"

"Oh be quiet, you eyebrow monster – don't take your anger out on us because Miss ruined your flirting with Alfred!" Francis jeered, a triumphant grin on his face at Arthur's stammering.

"Ignore them~" Alfred leaned down to whisper in his friend's ear, chuckling as Arthur lurched back, cheeks burning at how close Alfred had come to them.

"Now can we concentrate please, class? Lovino, Antonio, you two're up!" Mrs. Chernenko drew everyone's attention back to drama.

"Revenge really is sweet." Arthur muttered, grinning, "Though I wish it was Francis I was getting revenge on."

**A/N**

**Short, I know x'D and a bit of a filler, I know again~ but next chapter, there shall be more! (Though there will be equal USUK and UKUS, I need it that way to move the storyline along) X'D  
Not much to say here :D OH! But whenever I finally figure out how to use livejournal, I'll be posting this on there too, 'cause is starting to annoy me with that Critics United crap – I'm sure you've all head. They're going round and deleting stories that have 'explicit content' and break the rules (like no writing in song format – deleting an _entire, well written story_ because it has a _song_ in it.) So yeah, I don't really want to support , but don't worry, I'll continue posting here!**

**Thank you for reading, and if you've reviewed in the past/plan on reviewing!  
My little gems! :D  
Byebye!**


	19. Why is your smile broken?

**Chapter nineteen – Why is your smile broken?**

Antonio awoke the next morning, rolling over and groaning as his muscles screamed at him in mercy. Wondering why on earth his muscles could ache so badly, the Spaniard set his mind back to the previous day and then remembered _exactly_ why his body was in so much pain.

Of course, yesterday they'd acted out that Eyebrow Bastard's so called 'amazing, revolutionary and refreshing' play. Lovino had _not_ been happy about it, and Antonio couldn't really blame him. The play's basic storyline had been how Antonio playing the protagonist, had been happily married and nothing could go wrong with his life (Gilbert being his wife…) but then, the protagonist met an amazing, hypnotic, beautiful young witch (cue Lovino's entry) who 'wooed him into the forest despite the poor protagonist's pleas for help' in Arthur's own words. It had ended with Gilbert quite dramatically droving himself in a lake (he hid behind a curtain), Antonio being heartbroken, and Lovino resorting to comfort him in a very sexual way.

So sexual in fact, it had made even Francis blush, and Mrs. Chernenko (very reluctantly) telling them to stop, and that they'd already proven themselves as budding young actors.

The thing that had made everyone giggle though, was Arthur had quite mischievously written in that Gilbert was 'to look like an Ugly Sister from a Cinderella pantomime (cough cough drag act cough cough)' and Lovino was to wear 'robes worn from the strings of heaven themselves' (Again, quote Arthur) So they'd borrowed Arthur's Britannia angel costume off Kiku's mother again. Many, _many_ a photo had been taken, especially of Gilbert as he'd looked so utterly ridiculous with more makeup on his face than Lady Gaga's entire home. Antonio had been instructed to wear a Peter-Pan type costume that barely covered him (Peter seemed to be watching him avidly, a jealous look in his eye) and he'd also joined in the 'fun'.

Of course, afterwards when they were safe out of the way from Mrs. Chernenko and her threats of a detention with Coach Braginski, Lovino had _exploded._ Even though it wasn't really Antonio's fault, he'd still been the victim of the angry Italian's punches and insults. Of course, Antonio was used to the abuse off Lovino by now, but it _did_ sting a little every time he was called 'a damn tomato bastard' or 'the stupidest fucking retard on earth'.

Rolling over on to his other side, Antonio decided it'd hurt too much to go to school today. Well, that and the fact that he didn't really want to be reminded of his rather embarrassing drama lesson of the previous day. Besides, it was a Friday, there were no _really_ important lessons on a Friday.

Antonio then realised with a shock that he wasn't alone in his bed. He'd been too wrapped up in his own thoughts to notice a little curled up ball beside him, clinging on to the covers. Antonio realised with a start that Lovino was sleeping beside him! And by the looks of things he had been for a while! Astounded at how changeable his roommate could get, Antonio felt his hand move down, very slowly, and gently rested his fingers on Lovino's slightly moving back. He knew that if the Italian woke up at the sudden heat change, he'd have even _more_ bruises to complain about, but at the moment he didn't care. All he wanted to do was hold the cute boy!

Little did Antonio know, Lovino was in fact very, very awake the whole time Antonio had been patting his back. Lovino had always had a problem about telling Antonio his _real_ feelings, and every time he'd come to try and say something nice about the boy, he'd had a miniature explosion and just got too flustered to do it, and it had always ended up in him attacking Antonio. It was _his_ fault, damn it, it was _his_ fault for making Lovino feel all weird inside. He could compliment anyone _else_ (if he wanted to…) but just not _Antonio._

Luckily, Lovino found that if he was pretending to be unconscious then he could control himself an awful lot better. He wasn't sure _why_, but it happened that way. He'd done this quite a few times, actually – crawled into bed beside Antonio just to feel the warm Spaniard's breath against his neck. Once he'd even tried to pretend to faint in order to feel Antonio's arms around him.

Lovino sent his mind back to yesterday, remembering how he'd brutally attacked Antonio – he felt terrible about it, like he always did, but just couldn't find it in him to apologise. He knew and accepted the fact that he was a coward, but still he wanted to apologise to Antonio… he just wasn't sure how.

He'd heard his brother talking about one time how he'd annoyed Ludwig (damn potato bastard…) and had got him a box of potatoes and sausages to make up for it. Apparently Ludwig had been overjoyed at Feliciano's present, but according to Feliciano 'it wasn't the potatoes he was happy about! It was because I gave them to him~'. Lovino wasn't quite sure what that had meant exactly, but still he'd nodded to his brother, pretending to know _exactly_ what he was going on about.

So did that mean he should get Antonio some tomatoes? Some paella? How the hell was he meant to know? Something told Antonio, a voice that sounded scarily like Feliciano, that it didn't _matter_ what he got Antonio, just that he showed the boy that he was sorry.

Lovino was _very good_ at ignoring that little Feliciano voice, but this time, he thought to himself, maybe _this time_ it might be a little bit right.

Only a little bit.

So that was why Lovino was staying so very still next to Antonio. He had to admit, the feeling of his fingers rubbing softly against his back was very, very calming, and Lovino wanted nothing more than to fling his own arms around Antonio, apologising for every bad thing he'd done to the boy. Of course there was no _way_ he'd be able to do it, but it didn't stop him really, really wanting to.

There was a little spark in Lovino that morning though – a mischievous little spark that usually only occurred after eating tomatoes or whenever he was in one of his very rare good moods. And this little spark decided it was going to get what it wanted. So, following his gut instinct while his brain was screaming at him to stop, Lovino pretended to stretch a little in his sleep, in the hope that Antonio would lean inwards a little more.

Annoyingly, at the movement, the Spaniard panicked (obviously worried about upsetting Lovino if he were to wake up) and lurched away from Lovino, putting a great distance in between them. Lovino swore at himself – this was _his own_ fault for making Antonio so on-edge.

He tried again, this time edging ever-so-slowly closer towards the boy. Antonio hesitated for a moment, and then lifted up his hand again, placing it back on Lovino's back. The Italian frowned in his human-ball, all he'd managed to do was get Antonio doing what he was before – he wanted _more_.

_Take the plunge, for god's sake, damn it!_ Lovino screamed at himself, _all you need to do is reach out and grab him. It's not like he's going to shake you off or anything!_ What surprised Lovino is that it wasn't his Feliciano self nagging him, it was his _own_ voice telling him to do it, the one that usually argued with his conscience.

Well that _had_ to mean something, Lovino thought to himself. Perhaps he should listen.

Taking a deep breath, Lovino readied himself, not really sure why he was going to attempt what he was about to do. Three… two… one…

He still stayed frozen.

Growling silently at himself, Lovino took a deep breath, scrunching his eyes together. He tried again… three… two… one…

Finally on the last number, he managed to get his muscles to move, and he slammed himself into Antonio's chest, fastening his arms around the Spaniard's back and letting his fingers join together, circling Antonio in a loop. Antonio, who was more than a little surprised at Lovino's very sudden and _very_ unexpected movements lay there for a moment, somewhat stunned, getting used to the feeling of Lovino's arms around him.

"God damn it…" Lovino muttered into Antonio's chest, "You'd better not get any ideas you bas—" He stopped himself, "idiot…" he muttered the half-hearted insult.

"Lovino…" Antonio whispered into the Italian's ear, "Thank you."

Lovino stiffened at the Spaniard's words, "W-Why?"

"Because you're showing me what you really feel." There was none of Antonio's usual jokey tone in his words – he just sounded sincere, and very, very happy, but calm about it.

Lovino stayed silent for a moment, "S-sorry."

"What's there to be sorry about, _mi amor?" _Antonio smiled into Lovino's hair, and then suddenly realised that the little Italian's apology was for something an awful lot bigger than not being able to express his feelings – Lovino was apologising for everything bad he'd ever said to Antonio, anything he'd done to hurt him. Antonio was sure of it. It was _so_ like Lovino, "Ah, I see, Lovino, look at me."

Lovino obeyed hesitantly, letting their green eyes meet.

"I love you, okay? Nothing you do will change that. I know that you find it hard to put across your real feelings to me, especially when I flirt with you, but I want you to know that even if you do hurt my feelings, I will always come back to your side. No matter what. There is nothing to be sorry for, as long as you promise to try and tell me your _real_ feelings, okay?" Antonio said gently, smiling as Lovino nodded.

The two hugged for another moment, before Lovino muttered, "If anyone asks, I got cold wearing that stupid Britannia Angel thing and caught a cold. There is no way in fuck am I going to class."

"Usually I'd disagree, but today, there is nothing better to do than stay like this. You never know, we might actually catch colds." Antonio smiled, his usual self coming back a little. Lovino had to admit he was glad – although Antonio's serious side was a bit of a turn on, and could be very seductive, Lovino couldn't help but feel safer and more at home with his clueless self.

"Toni…" He muttered, using the boy's nickname.

"Yes, Lovi?" Antonio smiled happily.

"_Ti amo."_ Lovino's words could barely be heard over the beating of his own heart.

Antonio smiled to himself, and then addressed Lovino is a smillar fashion, "Lovi?"

"Y-Yes?"

"_Te amo"_

And before they knew it, their lips had met, and Lovino really thought this time, that maybe for _once_ he'd be able to control himself, and show his real feelings, and he and Antonio could make their longest relationship last for over two days.

* * *

Friday after school everyone was still muttering about the insane drama lesson from the other day. Even the students that weren't in the lesson had managed to get the entire story about it, and some even had pictures they'd snagged off their friends on Facebook. As a general rule there were two reactions to it.

First, the heterosexual reaction – 'you're all retards, you know that'. Sometimes it was said jokingly, others were deadly serious.

And second, the homosexual reaction was generally along the lines of 'Ah! That's so adorable!' or 'I wish I could've done it!'

Alfred didn't like judging or stereotyping, but it really was clear on each person's reactions what gender they liked. Apparently news had spread on how Alfred was 'A handsome prince set to find a princess' and he'd got quite a few years seven students from both Goverek and Coverack Girl's school following him around.

Arthur was not happy by Alfred's forming fan club, and every time he saw the students forming, he shoed them away, swearing at them and telling them not to be such creepy stalkers. Annoyingly, the year sevens were quite devoted, and would only scatter for long enough to escape Arthur's wrath, only for the Brit to find them again later huddled around Alfred.

"For god's sake! I'll report you to the head if I see you again, scramble you little prats!" Arthur growled, and the kids disbanded again, running off laughing. Alfred gave Arthur a thankful look.

"Thanks, Artie, you coming back to the dorm?" Alfred smiled, slinging his back over his back.

Arthur shook his head, "Nah, I'm this close," He held his fingers a pinch apart, "to finishing a composition. I want to get it done this side of the weekend, you see."

"Awesome! Well I'll grab some food from the canteen for you, yeah? It'll probably be shut by the time you get back, and there isn't much food in the cupboards, we'll have to go into town tomorrow and grab some stuff." Alfred suddenly realised that they sounded like a pair of newlyweds. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind, trying to listen to Arthur's reply.

"Thanks Alfred, you're a bloody hero." Arthur smiled happily, turning to leave, "Well, see you later."

"Arthur, wait a second." Alfred stopped the boy, not entirely sure how he was going to form what he wanted to say, "W-well… eh… the first time I met you was in that music room, right? But you never let anyone hear you playing. You're not in any clubs or anything – so… can I… come and hear you play?"

Arthur paused a second, thinking about Alfred's request. Everyone had spread around a weird urban-myth that the reason Arthur didn't like anyone listening to him play was because he was some sort of emotional-machine in there, and always came out in tears. Arthur had no idea where they'd come up with that from – it was probably from Francis' original imagination. The only reason he didn't like people listening to him is because it was always a distraction.

But this _was_ Alfred, and yes, he could be loud, but at times he knew how to co-operate, "I don't see why not, hurry up then. You might want to grab that food from the canteen, then."

Unfreezing at Arthur's words, Alfred let out a huge sigh of relief. For a moment when Arthur had paused, Alfred thought he'd crossed some sort of line and asked something unforgivable! "Awesome! Let's go get something that doesn't taste like dirt!"

"What're you talking about? The canteen's food is delicious!" Arthur pouted, following the American to the canteen.

After their slight de-tour, they quickly made their way to the Black Music Room, the first classroom Alfred had been inside. He hadn't been in here since then, and he could full remember Arthur and his first meeting. It made him smile slightly at the thought.

Arthur brought them through to the beautiful back room he always sat in, pulling out a large pile of written-on manuscript paper from underneath his seat. The Brit reached inside his blazer, bringing out a pair of reading glasses and placing them on his nose.

"Ah! I knew I hadn't imagined them!" Alfred grinned as he saw the glasses. Arthur raised an eyebrow in question, and Alfred launched into explanation, "I remember you wearing them the first time we met, but you've never worn them since, so I was wondering if I'd imagined them."

"Oh god…" Arthur chuckled, taking off his glasses to look them over, "Well, I only really use them for music, they don't help my eyesight, but they make me concentrate more. I don't know why…"

"They suit you!" Alfred decided, taking them off Arthur and placing them on the boys nose once again, "So, play me a song?"

Arthur smiled, "What do you want to hear?"

"That Mozart guy." The American was very pleased with himself that he could remember the name of a composer, "No wait! The one that did that really famous one! He was… German I think."

Arthur raised an eyebrow, "Do you mean this?" He rested his hands on the keys and began to play '_Fur Elise' _without the need for sheet music.

At Alfred's enthusiastic nodding, Arthur smiled, "That's Beethoven, Alfred."

"I knew he was German, though!"

"Alfred, _most_ of the famous pianists are German."

The two continued their laughing, until Alfred demanded to hear this '_Fur Elise' _again, humming along to the world famous tune. He demanded an array of songs ranging from Hedwig's theme from Harry Potter to 'that other famous one' which turned out to be 'Concerto in A Minor'. Both of them completely forgot the initial plan of letting Arthur finish his composition.

"Oh yeah, what happened to that composition thingy you were meant to be doing?" The American tilted his head, "Can I hear it?"

"Damn! I completely forgot about that…" Arthur sighed, examining the pages, "I only needed to put some dynamics in too…" He waved off Alfred with his hands when he said 'dynamics', knowing the American would want a full explanation on what the mysterious Italian musical phrase meant. "Well, I suppose you can hear it."

So Arthur did indeed play the very song he'd spent weeks composing. Though, he didn't tell Alfred the person who inspired the notes, as that inspiration was Alfred himself. It made Arthur blushing thinking about it, and as corny as it sounded, he really had based the piece on the mess his mind had been in since meeting the perky American.

Happily, Alfred listened to the rather hypnotic notes coming out of the grand piano. He had to admit, the piece sounded impressive – not only was it full of beautiful little ornaments and complicated little twiddles, it was also played with _feeling_. You could tell Arthur had poured his heart into making the piece sound like it did. The overall mood of the piece was most defiantly a negative one; though it wasn't _sad_ as sorts… it was more… romantic and loving in an _apologetic _way. Alfred couldn't quite put his finger on it – and he wasn't too sure on how a piece of music without lyrics could sound apologetic, but it did. But there were parts of the piece that in the gloomy mood there were little phrases that had a happier twist. There was probably a musical name for them, but Alfred knew that they made a little shiver run down his spine and a smile appear on his face.

Arthur finished, a rough blush on his face, and turned to Alfred, "There are loads of wrong notes, and I made up the dynamics – that's volume, Alfred – as I went along… what d'ya think…?"

Alfred gave Arthur a thumbs up, "It's awesome Artie! The next Motzoven!"

"Either Mozart or Beethoven, pick one idiot." Arthur rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but smile.

"Yeah, you're as awesome as them both, so you're Motzoven!" Alfred concluded with his childish and rather worrying logic, "It's a compliment, Artie, so take it and leave!"

"Yes, yes, thank you very much, Alfred." Arthur sang patronisingly as he began to shuffle his sheet music, placing it in a neat pile under the seat where it had been before, "It's getting late, we'd best get back to the dorms."

The yawn that came out of Alfred's mouth was legendary, and soon had Arthur mimicking him, "Hmm… you're right~ Saturday tomorrow~! Get this; I heard Mattie was going on a date with Gilbert!"

Arthur frowned slightly at the news, "I thought Matthew had a thing for Francis?"

"Nope, Francis had a thing for _him_, well… kind of a thing, but that was all a cover to make Owain jealous, wasn't it? Or that's what I heard. So why are them two dating?" Alfred tilted his head, chewing on his finger as he thought.

Trying not to blush seeing Alfred's pink tongue wrap around his finger, Arthur cleared his throat, "I have no idea. Perhaps Gilbert is trying to annoy Francis? Or maybe they just like each other; did that not occur to you?"

"Meh… there feels like something weird is going on behind the scenes… Mattie and Gilbert just don't seem like a perfect couple."

"Alfred, perfect couples don't exist, nothing is perfect." Arthur smiled fondly at Alfred's naïve look at life.

"Not true!"

"Go on then, if there was such thing as a couple, who would the 'perfect couple' be?" Arthur yawned again, not expecting an answer off the American.

The boy had paused to think for a moment, chewing on his finger, and then suddenly: "I know! Me and you."

Arthur stopped dead in the corridor, starting to sound like a chicken with the noises he was making, "_W-what!"_

Shrugging, Alfred flashed his boyish grin again, waiting for Arthur to catch up with him again, "Yeah! If I was into that stuff, I mean, but everyone in the school seems to think so anyway, plus you're really cute, Artie! Hell, if I were gay I'd have fallen for you the moment I met you." Alfred winked, and looped his arm through Arthur's in a joking way, "Hey, you like guys, right? Betcha you have a crush on me!"

Arthur knew Alfred was joking, but he still wanted to punch the boy on how apparently blind he was, and how he'd hit the nail on the head in one guess, "I hold no romantic feelings for you, Alfred, sorry to disappoint."

"Aww, man! But I'm your Prince, right? You told me you loved me in drama." He waggled his eyebrows knowingly.

"We both know that that was to avoid a terrible detention out on the sports field. Besides, I thought you were more of the hero type?" Arthur raised his eyebrow in question.

"Meh, Princes, heroes, they're almost the same, right? And I betcha you'd prefer a prince to a hero – like Prince Arthur! Hah, I'm blonde and all! All I need is a beard!" The American began stroking his chin, apparently willing a beard to grow out of the end.

"Alfred, if I wanted a prince then I'd go looking somewhere else." Arthur sighed, but could help smiling, "You'll make a brilliant prince to one princess someday, Alfred."

The blonde grinned at the compliment, "Who's to say that that princess won't be you, Artie?" He was still joking, but it did make Arthur's heart ache a little at how life had been so close to giving him something, and had snatched it away with the other hand. So close, yet so far.

"Shut up you big idiot, let's go home." Arthur's tone was fond.

"Just because you love me!" Alfred insisted.

"Not in a million years. You'd have to pay me to love you – an _awful _lot of money." Arthur challenged.

"Good job my parents have their fair share of cash then!"

"Shut it." Arthur repeated, and they continued all the way down the hall until they reached their dorm, waking quite a few people up.

Once they got inside, Arthur sighed, slumping down on his bed while Alfred was in the bathroom. Alfred had been kidding about everything he'd said, and that had killed Arthur inside that little bit more. Hugging the bear Alfred had given to him, (Arthur had decided to call him Albeart – Albert, Al_bear_t… get it?) and willing himself to fall asleep before he had chance to cry the tears he could feel welding up in his throat. Man, he was such a big _girl_.

_But maybe_, that little voice of optimism whispered, _maybe not everything Alfred said was a joke._

Yeah right, Arthur thought back, grimacing at himself, Alfred was as heterosexual as you could get. Straight as a board as he'd said at their sleepover. But that didn't stop Arthur being smitten with him.

Eventually, long after Alfred emerged out of the bathroom and had fallen asleep on his own bed, Arthur pulled the cover over his own shivering body, Arthur gave into the tear-barrier he'd been holding, and burrowed his face into the bear, the closest thing he could get to holding Alfred in his arms and slowly cried himself to sleep.

**A/N**

**Woop! Two in one day! Mass production much? X'D  
Slightly odd title X'D I couldn't think of anything D: sorry!  
But thank you for your kind, kind reviews! Over 100! :O I didn't even think I'd get fifty when I completed the entire thing! Man you guys are awesome! Love you all so much! **

**So thank you for reading :) keep the lovely reviews coming :D  
So I'm back to school for another six weeks tomorrow (six weeks! Q_Q) so I probably won't be getting a chapter up every day u_u tragic, I know X'D but I'll try and type them as quickly as I can! That is if I don't get overloaded with homework (which probably won't happen as my school sucks XD)  
See you all soon!  
Love you guys!  
Byebye~**


	20. First dates and broken hearts

**Chapter twenty – First dates and broken hearts**

Early on Saturday morning, Matthew found himself hurrying into the town centre, a scarf pulled around his neck as he battled around the gales of wind. This is what he _loved_ about England, he thought to himself bitterly, one week it would be lovely and warm, the next there's be warnings of 60mph wind and flash floods.

To say Matthew was in a foul mood wouldn't really cover it. To begin with, he'd had to find refuge in Toris and Feliks' room, as when he'd returned home from class yesterday he'd walked in on Kiku and Heracles _again_, and it was obvious that they weren't planning on shifting for a while. Luckily Toris had passed him in the corridor, and offered him a bed in his room, although Feliks wasn't too happy about it, and complained that Matthew was cramping his style.

He'd overslept that morning, as Feliks demanded he had needed beauty sleep, and refused to let Matthew set an alarm. Matthew had realised that he hadn't brought any clothes with him, so had creepily snuck back into his and Kiku's room, and politely averted his eyes from the figures of Heracles and Kiku entwined under their covers, snoring happily.

Not only that, but he'd missed the bus, and had to walk. It was only five minutes into town, but it would make him even later still for his and Gilbert's date. Not to mention the fact his stomach was threatening to throw his Polish breakfast back up, as he was so nervous about the fact that he was actually going on his first date with a guy.

His first date _ever_.

Matthew wasn't entirely convinced he was _completely_ gay. Yes, he'd had (and still had) feelings for Francis, but it was _just_ Francis. Matthew didn't really understand himself, but he didn't like any old guy – it was just that stupid French idiot. The male body didn't attract him in any way – girls were an awful lot more appealing. But he had to admit _Francis_ was drop dead gorgeous.

But then when he thought about Francis, he felt terrible. He knew Gilbert was taking him on a date to cheer him up, to make him smile in the hope Francis would get jealous. Matthew knew that Gilbert would never have feelings for him, and that this date wouldn't make Francis jealous – to be honest, he thought calling it a date would be a bit of a stretch. He and Gilbert were just friends, it was a friendly date, that was all.

Finally Matthew begun winding around the familiar roads, and after turning a final corner he found himself in the small town square, the sails of the yachts in the harbour flapping about like crazy. The town was quiet this morning – there were no tourists to fill up the streets, as it was term time again (and a terrible day) and there were only a few adults pottering around, and the odd pair of pensioners taking a walk by the harbour. There was just a single albino that stuck out from the tiny handful of people, his legs swung over a railing, looking out to the ocean and his back turned to Matthew.

"Gilbert!" Matthew called, trying to straighten his scarf so it wouldn't cover his face in the wind. Gilbert turned, grinning and waved, almost falling head-first into the sea, only to steady himself by slamming his hand back on the railings.

"Yo, Mattie!" Gilbert smiled, clapping his hands together and leaping off the rails.

"I'm sorry I'm late! How long have you been here? God you're not even wearing a coat, you must be freezing!" Matthew began fussing, and tucked his own scarf around Gilbert's freezing neck and sliding his fleece gloves on to the boy's hands.

"Nah, don't feel bad – I just got here myself! It didn't look all that cold from out of my dorm window. Besides, I'm too awesome to get cold!" The albino smiled perkily, "Where d'ya wanna go? I know quite a nice place that opened up which does ice cream _and_ pancakes, and plays hockey on the TV at the same time! 'Parenty a bunch of Canadians run it, you don't know anything about then, do you?"

Matthew shrugged, "No idea, but it sounds like a _pre-tty_ awesome place!" Matthew dragged out the 'pretty', grinning, "But I'm paying for you!"

"Not likely, Mattie!" Gilbert grinned, linking their arms, "I asked you on the date, yeah? So it's my payment!"

A little puzzled on why Gilbert was doing such a girly thing, Matthew just shrugged it off, going along, "Fine, but I'm paying for the movie we see later!"

"Never!"

* * *

Gilbert had in fact awoken that morning at seven o'clock, spending an hour getting ready in the bathroom (of course he'd never tell anyone this) and had even stolen some of Francis' fancy hair stuff. It had been rather effective in comparison to his usual 'Tesco Value 2 in 1 Shampoo/conditioner' and this new French stuff did make his hair a lot silkier. Maybe he'd have to rob off his roommate a lot more.

After Gilbert had carefully selected what he was going to wear – nothing too dressy, but not too casual (he'd decided on a loose white shirt and a pair of brightly coloured, baggy jeans) he bolted down his breakfast, and at eight o'clock in the morning dived out of the house – completely forgetting about the fact that it was cold outside – and jumped on the bus, only to arrive at the town centre an hour earlier than he'd arranged to meet up with Matthew.

He'd done this deliberately of course. He didn't even know _why_ he'd done it, to be honest. It just felt wrong _not_ to. So he'd sat at the harbour for an hour and a half, trying not to get hurt by the fact Matthew had been late, just watching the sailors prepare their boats for a day of sailing in the harsh wind.

He continued to throw subtle little things at Matthew at all points in their date, half of him wishing Matthew would notice them. They were small things that usually wouldn't have affected anyone, but Gilbert still had a hopeful heart. For instance, while they'd been eating their pancakes and ice cream, Matthew had raved about the toffee ice cream, saying it was absolutely _amazing,_ so while Matthew had slipped off to the bathroom, Gilbert got a waiter to place an extra scoop on top of his pancake, paying him quickly before Matthew came back in and noticed Gilbert was doing something.

When Matthew had returned back from the bathroom, he'd sat down at his seat, and not even noticed the fact that he now had double the ice cream on his pancake. Yeah, he'd given it a funny look, but must've shrugged it off, deciding it was his own fault. Gilbert had chuckled at Matthew's clueless side, but it still did make his smile that little bit sadder.

He'd also made an attempt to show though his good manners, as oppose to his usual terribly impolite side. He'd made sure to open doors for Matthew, letting him through first. Though with the chuckles that Matthew gave him when he attempted to show that he too actually _could_ be polite, he was pretty sure Matthew thought he was just kidding around.

On their way to the cinema, Matthew had politely asked what Gilbert had wanted to see – Gilbert had told Matthew he was fine as long as Matthew was seeing what he wanted. They'd got inside the small cinema, looking around at the pitiful selection of movies on show, and found that both 'The Avengers' and 'Snow White and the Huntsman' was on. Gilbert had been _raving_ about the Avengers for weeks, and really, _really_ wanted to see it, but with Matthew being 'Kristen Stewart's Number One Fan' Gilbert knew without Matthew even requesting that he needed to buy tickets for the terrible fairy tail remake.

Though he didn't complain – not even to himself. Gilbert was fine with seeing the movie, as long as Matthew smiled, 'cause that smile really _was_ the sweetest thing in the universe. After one hundred and twenty seven minutes of pretending to be entertained by the movie, Gilbert yawned, thanking the Gods as the credits rolled, helping Matthew up from his seat.

"That was _awesome_, right?" Matthew raved, jumping up and down excitedly, "Not as good as _Breaking Dawn_, but hell still pretty awesome."

"I know right? I loved it!" Gilbert tried to make his grin as genuine as he could manage. Luckily Matthew was too busy hyperventilating over how pretty Kristen had been in it to notice.

They made it out of the cinema and had begun walking towards a stationary shop, before Matthew came to a halt, almost walking into someone in front of him. Gilbert looked up, and grinned at who they found in their path.

"Alfred, put that _down_, we don't need any more coffee – I already bought you a load, remember?"

"But Arthuuuuuuur, you have _loads_ of tea!"

"That's because I'm paying for it! I'm buying you yours, so no being picky!"

"Aww, you know I feel bad about that, man! I just bought a new acoustic, and I have no money – but I'll pay you back super duper quickly, okay?"

"Fine. Oh! Matthew! What're you doing here?" Arthur finally looked up from the little outside grocery stall he was engaged in, noticing Matthew and Gilbert, smiling in welcome to them.

Matthew blushed slightly, muttering something under his breath.

"He's on a date with me! We're making Frenchie jealous!" Gilbert grinned, grasping Matthew's hand triumphantly.

"Oh of course, Alfred mentioned something about that the other day…" Arthur mused, examining a pear before placing it into his basket.

"What about you two? Out on a date as well?" Gilbert winked, knowing it would wind Arthur up.

It did indeed wind Arthur up – so much, in fact he came very close to dropping an egg, "D-Don't be ridiculous, Gilbert! We're simply out shopping, as Alfred refuses to eat the food in the canteen." Arthur tried to keep his voice level.

"Arthuur~ what're you talking about, meanie? You told me this was a date _just for us~_ and that you'd kiss me at the harbour at sunset~" Alfred drawled, obviously joking, and burst into cackles of laughter as Arthur began spluttering again, "So much fun to wind up, right?" He asked Gilbert, who nodded enthusiastically.

"We'd better get going," Matthew smiled fondly at his friends, "Wouldn't want to interrupt your _date_, would we?"

"Actually, Mattie, can you give me, like, two minutes? I just need to run and grab something!" A sudden idea popped up into Gilbert's mind, "He'll be okay with you two for a minute, right?"

"Sure, but what d'ya need?" Matthew asked. Gilbert panicked a little at that, not sure how to respond – he hadn't thought of that! "Unless it's something I shouldn't know about…" Matthew continued, "Porn, perhaps?"

The albino sent up a million prayers of thanks for the escape route, "Well, every guy has his needs!" And ran off before they could question him any more.

The truth was Gilbert had passed a very cute looking flower shop on the way out of the cinema. He decided that his subtle hints weren't getting the message across – Matthew really _did_ seem to be completely oblivious to the fact that they were on a real _date_. He seemed to think that Gilbert had invited him along as a friend. Hell no! Gilbert defiantly wanted to be more than Matthew's friend…

So what other way to convince Matthew to _really _date him than in a romantic way? He'd roomed with Francis Bonnefoy for three bloody years – he'd learnt a book and a half on romance, and now he would finally be able to apply that knowledge!

Gilbert bolted into the little flower shop that had originally been named '_Darling Buds'_ hoping that he wouldn't be spotted by anyone he knew. The shop was bursting with flowers all colours of the rainbow – mixed bouquets, single stalks, hell you could even get single petals of your desired flower. With_ no_ idea what to get Matthew, Gilbert tapped an employee on the shoulder.

"Hey, could you tell me what sort of flowers you should get for a…" Gilbert paused – what should he say? Boyfriend? _Girlfriend?_ "Eh… someone you're dating?"

The assistant turned around, and Gilbert looked at him for the first time, and realised it was none other than Feliciano, "Gil!" Feliciano cried happily, "What're you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question, Feli! You work here?" Gilbert had got quite close to Feliciano through the Italian's budding friendship with Ludwig, "Listen, could you get me some flowers I could give to Mattie?"

Feliciano tilted his head to the side, and then nodded enthusiastically. He darted into the back of the store for a moment or two, and then returned with a cute, simple bouquet in his hands, holding it out to Gilbert, smiling.

Gilbert examined the flowers, not wanting to damage them in any way. The buds had been woven around a little metal wire in the shape of a heart, looking like a little wreath – the majority of the flowers were beautiful red roses, but just to the right of the centre, the designer had placed a large white lily. The contrast was quite pretty, Gilbert had to admit, and if _he_ found the flowers pretty, then surely _Matthew_ would find them drop dead gorgeous!

"Feliciano, you fucking genius!" Gilbert pulled the boy into a hug, "How much is it? What, twenty quid?" He began pulling the British currency out of his back pocket.

"Fifty pounds~" Feliciano sang, "No, wait! I can give you discount, the boss said! Forty pounds~"

Gilbert almost chocked at hearing the figures, "Man, flowers are expensive!" But nevertheless brought out an additional twenty pound note, handing it over to Feliciano.

After waving goodbye to Feliciano, Gilbert hastily stopped by at a newsagents and grabbed the first pornographic magazine he laid eyes on, so that he'd have proof to Matthew that he actually _had_ gone to buy the magazine. He'd hidden the flowers in a little bag, preying they weren't going to get squashed. Luckily, the movie had been quite long, and it was beginning to get close to four o'clock, which would mean it would be quite easy for Gilbert to get Matthew to head to the docks with him.

"Matthew~!" The German called, grinning and waving as he approached Alfred, Arthur and Matthew, who were still at the same stall, Arthur still examining the same fruit as they were five minutes ago.

"Well, we'll let you two carry on." Arthur smiled, waving at both Gilbert and Matthew, "Enjoy the rest of the day!" With that (and a loud goodbye from Alfred) Arthur was quickly dragging Alfred away, as he'd apparently spotted a rare flavour of tea, or something British like that.

"You took your time," Matthew chuckled, "Couldn't decide which one?"

Gilbert avoided his gaze, smirking guiltily, "Something like that…"

"Where are we heading now?" The Canadian tilted his head in his adorably innocent way.

"To the docks, dear Matthew!" Gilbert grabbed the boy's arms, putting on a British accent to make the boy laugh. His plan worked, and Matthew's light, quiet giggles met his ears in a beautiful, bell-like tone.

"What? Why the docks?" Matthew asked, suddenly realising what Gilbert had said.

"You'll see!"

The short walk to the docks was over in half the time it would've usually taken, as Gilbert was pulling Matthew by his arm and running down the narrow pavements in a rather reckless way, "I betcha ya can't beat the awesome me in a race!"

Matthew was one who didn't usually like competition, but the wind must have done something funny to his head, because before he knew it, he was panting, hanging over the side of the railings Gilbert had been sitting on at the beginning of the day, grinning when he looked over his shoulder to see Gilbert panting, trailing behind him.

"Y-you're a fast runner…" The German sighed, draping himself over the railings, gazing out into the grey sea.

"No, you're just really slow." Matthew grinned, showing a different side to himself. Gilbert raised an eyebrow in question, but said nothing more than a chuckle of encouragement.

"Right! I have something to give you!" Gilbert announced, glad that there weren't too many people around the docks as he straightened up, facing Matthew properly.

Matthew tilted his head in question, also straightening up and faced Gilbert. Before he could ask the obvious question of 'what is it?' Gilbert was routing around in his plastic back, and a wave of panic blew over Matthew, "Ah! As kind as that is, Gilbert, your really don't have to share your… 'Special magazines' with me. Really. Go and enjoy them yourself, I'll be fine on my own!"

The Albino chuckled, lightly patting Matthew on the head, "Idiot, I'm not _that_ stupid – you're way too cute for porn!"

"Watch it." Matthew narrowed his eyes, un-amused.

"Just kidding!" Gilbert chuckled, and then carefully brought out his bouquet, presenting it to Matthew, "For you."

Matthew's eyes widened as he held the bouquet, blinking a few times, not entirely sure what to say. By his reaction, Gilbert could pretty much guess that there were positive feelings towards the bouquet, "Gilbert… How much did this _cost_ you?"

"Well, that would be telling! And it would _not_ be awesome if I told you." Gilbert winked.

"Eh… Gil… you do know you give these flowers to… like… _lovers_… don't you?" Matthew tried his very best not to sound patronising.

Sarcastically, Gilbert raised an eyebrow, "Really? Is _that_ why they're in the shape of a heart? I really couldn't work that part out!"

"B-but we're not dating!" Matthew pleaded for reason, trying not to sound ungrateful.

"Mattie, what did we go on today?" Gilbert smiled, hoping like hell he wouldn't have to face rejection. Suddenly he felt _very stupid_.

"A-a date… But that was just as friends, right? You were trying to make me feel better, weren't you? I-I didn't know you meant a _real_ date… like with kissing and stuff…" Matthew looked extremely vulnerable.

"Well, I could kiss you if you wanted me to?" Gilbert leaned down, tilting Matthew's head up with his thumb and forefinger.

Matthew then panicked, his eyes growing wider with worry, "N-no! Gilbert, please… I don't want to think of you in that way… I-I don't like guys… it's…"

"… Just Francis." Gilbert sighed, finishing the Canadian's sentence for him, "I understand."

"I'm sorry… I panicked." Matthew sounded distraught, "I didn't mean to sound mean… c-can you understand? I don't want to lead you on or anything."

Trying not to let his disappointment show through, Gilbert just shrugged Matthew off with a smile, "Mattie, I understand, man! You've given your heart to another guy – it wouldn't be fair for me to selfishly try and steal it for myself, right? Don't worry about it. You should head home though – I thought you were meeting up with the orchestra at half four?"

"Ah! Damn it, I am…! Gilbert, I really am sorry, but I have to go! Please don't think of me as a bad person…" Matthew begged, unsure just how to leave.

"Matthew, go to your practice – I'll be fine here for a while, kay?" Gilbert smiled, "But don't think this means I'm giving up on you!"

Gilbert didn't hear a reply off the Canadian, so just waved at the boy, and returned to staring at his reflection in the water.

Being alone was _a lot_ better than being in the company of others, Gilbert decided.

_Though, _his conscience reasoned, _sometimes it does hurt to be alone too… just a little bit._

**A/N**

**Ahh… D: poor Gilbert!**

**Okay, sorry there was no USUK loveliness here DX I was actually planning on continuing this chapter with Alfred and Arthur walking home and finding Gilbert in tears or something…**

**But then I saw the Big Bang Theory was on TV, and I ran out of the room… and I came back to the computer realising I'd lost loads of time ._." Sorry ^^"**

**I don't plan on making this too angsty (I suck at that stuff X'D) so a little bit of teenage heartbreak is probably as far as I'm going with this :)**

**There probably won't be a chapter up tomorrow sorry D: but next chapter that does come, I (hope) something pre-tty big'll happen! Well, within the next few chapters anyway X'D  
wow! Twenty chapters so far! And so many reviews! LOVE YOU ALL /Glomp/**

**Night night~ /yawns/**


	21. Heartbroken, deluded idiots

**Chapter twenty one – Heartbroken, deluded idiots**

Alfred and Arthur were returning from their little shopping trip, arms full of random foods. Alfred had got bored half way through and demanded that they were to go and see a movie. Still a little hyped up at how awesome the film they'd seen was, Alfred was jumping around and coming very close to dropping a bag of vegetables Arthur had trusted him with.

"Hey Artie, look over there…" Alfred pointed over to the docks as they were making their way back to the bus stop.

"Alfred, I'm not falling for that again! Last time you distracted me like that you tried to pull my trousers down!" Arthur pouted, not having fond memories of Alfred's apparently _hilarious_ gag.

"Hah! That was _so_ funny – but seriously – _look!"_ Alfred insisted, pointing again, jabbing his finger out into the air almost violently.

Arthur decided that he'd have to look sooner or later, plus the curiosity was killing him. So, he looked in the direction of Alfred's finger, and found it was pointing at none other than Gilbert, staring into the water, but with no Matthew nearby.

The two rushed over, quite worried at how civil and un-disruptive the German was being, calling his name. Gilbert looked up, nodding and smiling slightly, "Ev'nin'."

"'_Evening'?_ Gilbert, even _Arthur _doesn't greet people like that! What's _wrong?_" Alfred sounded genuinely worried, Arthur glaring at him.

"Are you trying to imply something!" The Brit's tone was hardly tolerant of Alfred's insult, but he decided that Gilbert was more of a worry right now, "But yes, Alfred's right – what on earth is the matter, Gilbert?"

The boy shrugged, looking distant again, "Just need some thinking time, y'know?"

Alfred tried his _very best_ to keep his snorts in, he really did. But the idea of Gilbert needing 'thinking time' just seemed so odd and alien to him, he couldn't help but giggle like an idiot, gaining a glare and a shove from Arthur.

"Ehh… what're you thinking about, then?" Arthur said diplomatically.

Gilbert sighed deeply, "I got rejected." He said simply, and Alfred understood completely.

"Aw, man, I feel for ya. Who was it, Mattie?" Alfred slapped a hand on the German's back, "Too bad… I could punch Francis for ya?"

Gilbert narrowed his eyes, "Shut the fuck up, American, I'm older and stronger than you! I could hit Francis if I wanted or needed to, but he's my best friend, although he's a dick at times. Plus, if Mattie likes him, then it'd probably offend the poor kid if I did hit Francis."

Arthur was staying silent, not entirely sure about what was going on. He knew it must suck to be rejected – but all the girls in the books he'd read had just gone home, called their friends over for a huge sleepover and cried themselves to sleep watching sad love films, eating sugary stuff and wasting tissues. Most of the time they'd begun insulting the guy who'd rejected the protagonist, telling their friend that 'she was too good for him', or 'there are plenty more fish in the see', and there was a re-occurring theme of 'chicks before dicks'.

But Gilbert seemed to be blaming himself, and there wasn't a tear or tissue anywhere in sight, and unless Gilbert had something sweet in his back, it was lacking in that element too. Unless the gender had something to do with it… the books had always made the guys seem like the evil ones, and the general moral at the end of them was 'don't fall for guys for their looks – your friends are more important!' Arthur agreed with this up to a point, but sometimes they took it _too_ far, in his opinion.

"Artie? You okay there? Try not to fall into the sea." Alfred chuckled, clicking his fingers in front of Arthur's eyes, pulling his off his train of thought.

"Ah! Sorry, yes. Gilbert. So Matthew rejected you?" He asked rather bluntly, then realised it was a tender subject at the look Gilbert gave him, "Oh! I apologise! I mean, you didn't get too lucky then?" His tone was a lot nicer this time.

Gilbert smiled dryly, "Don't worry about it, Eyebrows. You'll experience this pain someday soon! When you do, come over to my place and we can eat some cookies and watch a movie and cry our eyes out like girls."

Arthur blinked in shock at how accurate Gilbert had been to his previous thoughts. The German must've mistook the look of mixed shock and horror on Arthur's face as he chucked sympathetically, "Wow, no need to get scared – I was kidding, man, kidding!"

"N-no, I didn't mean…!" Arthur decided it would be rather pointless explaining himself, "Okay."

"Wow, you're flat, Artie! Don't tell me there's someone you're planning to confess to?" Alfred grinned goofily, "Hah! Artie's in love! L – O – V – E! Artie and …. Someone… sitting in a tree…"

"… K – I – S – S – I – N – G~" Both Alfred and Gilbert finished the childish rhyme, grinning like idiots.

Blushing haughtily, Arthur turned up his nose, "And how old are you two turning this year? And no, Alfred, there is not anyone I'm planning to confess to, thank you very much. Gilbert, you know the last bus is coming in five minutes, you're probably best coming back with us now. Unless you want a detention for coming in after hours."

The German blinked a few times, "It's that late already!" He checked his phone for the time, "Shit! I've been sitting here for three fucking hours!"

"Mattie got you that down, eh?" Alfred nodded, "I know the feelin', man."

"Who'd you get rejected by, Alfie?" Gilbert grinned, a laugh about to break out.

"Countless chicks back in America… they all collapsed into giggles and said that either I was 'too cute to take seriously' or that 'they thought of me as a little brother'. It kinda burst my bubble…" Alfred sighed heavily at the memories, but then slung an arm around Gilbert and Arthur, "But hey! Bros before hoes, right? You guys love me, don't ya?"

"Alfred, you look like you're wasted." Arthur began wrestling the American's strong arm off his shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah, we love you Alfred, now get off you idiot!" Gilbert grinned, and then shoved his hands in his pockets almost bashfully, "But thanks you two."

Alfred and Arthur exchanged glances, and then craned their necks to look at Gilbert, giving them an identical questioning stare, "What?"

"Y'know, for cheering me up!" Gilbert grinned roughly, wrestling them both down, giving them affectionate noogies, "You guys are my bros, sure enough! Well, unless you count Antonio and Francis, but they're both off flirting with other guys!"

The pointless banter continued between the boys all the way back to their dorms, Gilbert constantly poking at Arthur, calling his a princess, or telling Alfred he ate too many hamburgers. Alfred and Arthur weren't short on comebacks, though, and immediately shot something mean back at the albino, which usually concerned Matthew, and often the added extra of Francis.

"You guys are terrible! Horrible, terrible people!" Gilbert pouted jokingly as they climbed off the bus, complaining about a particularly witty retort Arthur had spat back to Gilbert's accusation that Arthur would end up marrying one of his fairies, though for some reason he'd be the one in the wedding dress.

"Whatever. Try not to trip and fall on your way to your dorm; I've noticed you're very clumsy, Gilbert." Arthur sniffed, already heading down in the opposite direction to reach his and Alfred's rooms.

"See ya, Gil!" Alfred waved enthusiastically, "I'm rooting for ya with Mattie! Good luck~!"

Gilbert called a thank you in return, and then began jogging back to his own room; Alfred chuckled, and began following Arthur.

"Artie, slow down, man!" Alfred finally caught up with the speed-walking Brit, and then remembered that he was carrying an _awful_ lot of food, and he wasn't even that strong, bless him! "Gimme some of those bags! Your arms must be _killing_ you!"

Arthur shook his head, but gladly handed over two of the countless plastic bags he was holding, "I'm alright, you know, but thank you." The truth was in fact Arthur's arms had gone numb many hours ago, but his stupidly-strong pride had ignored his muscles' cries of pain, and he'd continued on like a soldier.

"Remember, I'm your hero, okay?" Alfred grinned, pulling Arthur into a casual hug as they entered their dorm, "Here to help you when you're in trouble!"

"Thanks, Alfie," Arthur smiled, using the American's nickname as a rare show of affection.

Alfred dumped the shopping down on the table, taking Arthur's bags off him and began sorting through them, "You bought them, so I'll put 'em away, kay?"

"I like your logic." Arthur smiled, flicking the kettle on.

There was only the sound of the plastic bags rustling and a few 'eughs' of disapproval when Alfred came across a vegetable he particularly disliked.

"Alfred…" Arthur began hesitantly, "I'm writing this thing… this story if you like. It's an extra assignment for English – you know I like to get as much work done as possible."

"Hmm?" Alfred said, very tempted to throw away Arthur's loaf of wholemeal bread. _Wholemeal._

Arthur twiddled his fingers, not sure how to phrase his sentence, "W-well… it's a romance, you see, but I'm not sure what to write…"

Alfred looked up from the bread, reluctantly placing it in the breadbin, "So what've you written so far?"

"Okay… so the main male, let's call him John – he falls in love with someone, but it's the first person he's ever fallen in love with. The guy he falls in love with is his best friend."

"Oh? He's gay? I'm not sure how the head will react to _that_ one!" Alfred grinned playfully.

Slapping a hand over his mouth, Arthur groaned – he hadn't meant to let that slip. Of course, Arthur was _not_ doing extra English work – he was doing the 'I have this friend' thing, and getting advice, but it would have been all too obvious if Arthur said 'I have this friend', because well, _he didn't_, "Okay, Johns gay, whatever. And he falls in love with his best friend, Chris. But Chris is very, _very_ straight. The two are really close and all – they've even kissed a few times, though it was all by accident, really. Chris doesn't know _anything_ about John's feelings. John's never fallen in love before, remember, and he really doesn't know what to do. Any suggestions for my lost, _fictional_ character?"

Alfred paused to think, chewing on his lip, "Well, it happens all the time on TV doesn't it? Just get John to flirt with Chris! No wait. How _much_ does John love Chris? Like, would he be willing to sacrifice their friendship?"

Arthur panicked, not sure what the right answer was, "Well, John… he is defiantly in love. He would do anything to gain Chris' love back, but if that meant sacrificing everything they had as friends, then he'd try his best to move on."

Nodding, Alfred continued unpacking the vegetables, "I see, I see! Right. I have it! John should just talk to Chris about it – confess his feelings! If Chris is a worthwhile friend, then surely he'd understand! Then either they can go back to being friends, or they could try going out with each other. Does Chris have any secret feelings for John?"

Arthur shook his head, "No – well, it's all from John's point of view, you see, and sometimes Chris _acts_ like he does, but John is pretty sure that he doesn't have feelings for him."

"Well, I wouldn't let John jump to conclusions! More often than not it turns out that the people you like have feelings for you back, or that's what I've heard. It doesn't seem all that apparent with Gilbert and the others." Alfred chuckled pityingly, "Poor guy."

"So John should tell Chris… okay. Thank you, Alfred." Arthur smiled, "I'm going to bed."

"Arthur, it's eight o'clock!" Alfred raised an eyebrow, "Why so early?"

The Brit shrugged, heading into the bathroom, "I'm really tired – it was all that shopping you made me carry, idiot."

"Sorry…" Alfred grinned bashfully.

"Night~" Arthur smiled, locking himself into the bathroom.

_John should tell Chris…_

In other words, Alfred had basically suggested that Arthur should indeed confess his feelings to the boy.

Arthur just hoped that what Alfred had said about more often than not, the person you liked had feelings for you back.

* * *

Arthur awoke the next morning rather sweaty and tried. To say he'd slept well would have been a downright _lie._ He moaned to himself climbing into the shower, the hazy memories of the hellish night slipping back to him. He was pretty sure he'd been sleep walking, and, hoping that it was only a dream, had attempted to climb into Alfred's bed. He'd also had a terrible nightmare waking him up at four o'clock in the morning about two men without faces (called Chris and John) who were chasing him and Alfred around, threatening Arthur because they'd used them as an excuse. For some reason, in the dream Arthur had very randomly confessed to Alfred – Alfred had gotten annoyed and had joined forces with Chris and John, chasing Arthur, and soon the whole school was chasing him, saying mean things that he didn't want to recall.

The shower helped him calm down an _awful lot_. He knew that he shouldn't be bothered by a _dream_ for God's sake – fiction! Still, it had had him almost in tears when waking up from the nightmare and Arthur knew that he _was_ rejected by Alfred in real life, it would be very hard to cope.

He just had to place faith in his best friend's advice. Alfred would understand, surely? And he hadn't made that much of a big deal about Arthur being gay apart from the odd joking insult here and there.

Yes, he'd understand. He had to!

There was a sharp rap on the door, "Artie! Do you plan on coming out of there any time today? Other people stink too, y'know!" Arthur could hear the grin in Alfred's voice, "Unless are you doing '_something'_ in there – I can come back later if you're… busy with 'other things'~"

Arthur almost slipped on the slippery surface, "What're you talking about! Get your head out of the bloody sewer, Alfred – I was just thinking!"

"Oh! About who? Just make sure the shower's clean when I use it!" Alfred's boyish, loud laugh cackled its way through the door, "Call me when you're done!"

Grumbling to himself, Arthur climbed out of the shower, tying a towel around his waist, pulling the door open with a ripe blush covering his face, "Just hurry the hell up, idiot. I'll be in the kitchen."

"Sexy, Artie, sexy~ nice six pack!" Alfred grinned, flicking Arthur's none-existent muscles on his chest.

Burning, Arthur swore at his friend, saying as many racist and stereotypically American insulting things his brain could come up with, "Go drown yourself!"

"Ouch, Artie! I'm hurt!" Alfred grinned jokingly, pretending to faint in shock, "And here I thought you loved me!"

Arthur had half a mind to mutter a confirmation of Alfred's statement, but the American had already shut and locked the door, and Arthur could hear the sound of the shower and its built-in radio blasting around the bathroom. Sighing and smiling fondly, Arthur went about getting dressed and then walked into the kitchen, buttering himself some toast.

Alfred came in about fifteen minutes later, wearing only a pair of loose sweatpants, drying off his hair. Alfred must've only just started puberty, but it seemed like he was one of the 'fast developers' as the muscles in his chest were starting to look less like a little girl's and more like the burly, masculine shapes they should be. They weren't quite there yet, of course, and the thoughts of _any_ chest hair for both Arthur and Alfred were completely inexistent.

The American made straight for the cupboards upon entering the kitchen, rooting through the new piles of food they'd purchased yesterday. Suddenly a thought occurred to Arthur.

"Oh! Alfred, wait here a moment, will you?" Arthur stood up, chuckling at Alfred's look of question, "I have something to give you."

Alfred blinked a few times, wondering if he'd heard Arthur right. The Brit was _not_ pleased with his reaction.

"Oi! I may act heartless, but that doesn't mean I am! Surely I'm _allowed_ to give you a present?" Arthur pouted.

"No, no! I'm not complaining! What is it?" Alfred asked enthusiastically, grinning like a puppy.

Tapping his nose, Arthur skipped out of the room, only to return a moment later with something hidden behind his back, "Guess."

Alfred's face fell, "I suck at guessing! I don't know… an embroidery kit?"

"Do you _really_ think I'd put you though such torture?" Arthur raised a bushy eyebrow, "No, here."

Arthur brought out the object he was concealing behind his back, smiling triumphantly to himself as he saw Alfred's face light up with delight. The American grabbed the box of Lucky Charms cereal off his friend, hugging them both (that is, the box of cereal and Arthur) in a bone crushing hug – and then realised that the box was only made of cardboard, and Arthur was panting for his life.

"I love you, Artie!" Alfred gazed at the box of cereals in a nostalgic remembrance of the sweet taste in his mouth, "These must've cost you loads! You said importing stuff cost a bomb!"

"It does, which is why I can't make a habit of this, okay? Savour them! I know you like your sugary cereals. Just don't get fat." Arthur muttered, now slightly embarrassed at the odd present. At least Alfred seemed happy with the cereal.

"Yes, yes, yes! I'll do anything you want me to!" Alfred hugged Arthur again before running over to the fridge and pouring himself a rather large bowl of the marshmallow-y stuff, tucking into it like it was the tastiest thing he'd ever eaten.

* * *

The day passed all too quickly for Arthur. It was one of those lounging-around Sundays, where you have loads to do, but for some reason you just don't do any of it. After they'd paid a 'quick' visit to Matthew that had lasted for three hours, talking about Gilbert and Francis, and they'd spent a few hours in the music room, finishing off Arthur's composition, the two found themselves only an hour away from Alfred's seven o'clock detention with the head.

"And Harry Potter's on tonight! The last one… I can't watch it without crying, and I don't want to be crying on my own!" Arthur moaned, "You _had_ to get yourself landed in a detention, didn't you?"

Sighing, Alfred patted Arthur sympathetically like _he_ was the one suffering, "Don't worry, Artie! Record it, and we can watch it later, 'kay? I promise! Then we can cry about Snape like big girl's together."

Already tearing up at the memory, Arthur nodded sadly, his lip wobbling, "K-kay."

"But what do we do for an hour? I mean I don't want to spend an hour doing nothing but complaining about the detention, go to the detention, and come back and complain more about it! That would suck!" Alfred groaned, slumping down on his bed, rolling over a few times with boredom.

"I have some Doctor Who DVDs we could watch? If you like Star Wars, you'll probably like it." Arthur suggested casually, sipping a mug of tea.

"I heard Billie Piper's hot… eh, why not? You never know, you might actually get me into it, Artie! I had a buddy back in America who was _crazy_ for it – he tried to get me to watch the episodes on BBC America every Saturday, but I never got round to it…" Alfred yawned; turning his torso towards the small TV they had in their room, waiting for Arthur to place the DVD into the player.

"It's not Billie Piper you want to be looking at. David Tennant has a charm of his own…" Arthur sighed dreamily, and then blushed.

"Hah! The Scottish guy? Aww, that's adorable Artie! Hah! Artie's in love with Dave Tennant!" Alfred found it hilarious, and was now rolling around with a pillow, giggling like an idiot.

"_David _Tennant! Dave Tennant makes him sound like some sort of pedophile! And I am _not_ in love with him! It's just… he's very… '_hot'_ as you would phrase it!"

No matter _how_ Arthur phrased it, Alfred was going to find it hilarious, so the Brit decided to just shut up and play the episode, and decided to sit on top of Alfred until he begged for release.

"Ah! You're squishing my arm! Ow, ow, ow, _ow!_ Okay! Okay! I'm sorry! Please, have mercy!" He giggled hysterically, trying to catch his breath, squirming at the weight of Arthur on top of him. Arthur grinned triumphantly.

"Tell me I'm so much more awesome than you, and I'll always be the cooler than Alfred F. Jones!" Arthur demanded, shifting his weight a little so it hurt Alfred that little bit more.

"Never!" Alfred still giggled, trying to wrestle Arthur off him. His efforts were in vein, and Arthur shoved a pillow over his friend's face, making them both erupt into more giggles, "Fine, fine! Arthur Kirkland is the awesomest Brit ever, and he will always be cooler than me, Alfred F. Jones! Now have mercy!"

Arthur kept his word and obediently climbed off Alfred, still giggling to himself.

"In your dreams! I'll always be the awesome, cool hero!" Alfred grinned triumphantly, only to get a pillow right in his face from Arthur, the two of them laughing.

Eventually the two calmed down a little, and actually managed to watch the science-fiction British programme that was running on the scene. Alfred was actually getting quite into it, but Arthur was more than a little distracted. He was squished right up close to Alfred, their hands tantalisingly close. He could hear the soft breaths in and out of the American's sleek lips, and he was sure that if he leaned his head on the boy's shoulder that Alfred's heartbeat would ring clearly in his ears.

He needed to tell Alfred his feelings. If he didn't, he might actually drive himself insane. What better time to do it than now…?

"Alfred." Arthur addressed his friend quietly, pulling the boy's attention away from the screen, "I-I need to tell you something."

The blonde tilted his head inquisitively, looking all too innocent, "What is it? Are you okay, Artie? You look kinda ill…"

A wry chuckle echoed about in Arthur's brain. _A little_ ill. Hell, he felt like he should be being carted away to the hospital strapped to a stretcher, "I-I'm fine. I-I just don't know how to tell you what I'm thinking…"

"It's okay! You can tell me anything!"

"Anything? Anything at all?" Arthur asked, catching Alfred's worried gaze, "_Really_ anything?"

"Arthur, what's going on?" Alfred really _did_ sound worried now, "Has someone _died_ or something?" His nervous chuckle at the end showed that he _hoped_ he was joking.

"No, no, nothing like that, don't worry…" Arthur sighed – he was making a scene again. Okay deep breath. Three, two, one.

"I-I…" Was all that came out. He growled to himself, _You idiot – you sound as emotionally challenged as Lovino! Are you a man or a mouse! Arthur, you're a bloody Kirkland! You've fought worse than this! Are you _really_ going to let that American get the better of you like this!_

"I-I...!" He tried again, "Bloody hell!" He shouted in frustration. Alfred placed a hand on Arthur's shoulder comforting him. "Can I just show you?" Arthur asked.

Alfred nodded still a little confused. At least this would be a little easier. Arthur took a deep breath, bidding his pride a final farewell. There was nothing to loose. Come on!

Hah, there was _everything_ to loose. But Arthur was already moving. It was too late for thinking! He needed to get this over with.

The Brit grabbed Alfred's hand almost roughly – of course, he never intended to hurt the American - it was simply because of his own nerves. Alfred raised an eyebrow at the hand-holding, still _completely _oblivious of what Arthur was trying to tell him.

"God damn it, Alfred!" Arthur finally shouted in frustration, "You're with me every bloody hour of the day – you're my best friend, yet you still don't know a single bloody thing about me! You don't know what thoughts are in my mind daily, distracting me from my school work, making me cry at night, sigh like a love-struck girl every hour of the day! If you _knew_ how confused I have been in the past month, _then_ you'd understand. How confused _everything_ has been making me feel! How even a casual touch, a meaningless sentence can get my heart beating faster than a slave driver and his whip! Alfred, bloody hell! It's all _your fault…"_

Alfred looked like he was about to say something, but Arthur cut across him, his voice a little hoarse, and sounding quite close to tears.

"It's because you're _so perfect_. Even your _flaws_ are perfect! You're so happy – just always _happy!_ And even if someone were to trip you up and laugh at you, you wouldn't get annoyed at them, and would make an excuse for them and forgive them, because, again, you're so _brilliant._ You've got everything right about you – you're handsome, understanding, kind, considerate, bloody hell! Take every positive adjective in the bloody dictionary – they all apply to you! The _one_ thing wrong with you – and it's not even a _flaw_ – is that you're not mine, and you _never_ will be, because you're _straight!"_

Arthur had grabbed on to Alfred's shirt now, pulling on the fabric pathetically as he stared down at the bed sheets, feeling the tears trickle down his face, but not caring. He knew by the silence that Alfred was more than a little shocked about what Arthur was saying to him, and Arthur didn't blame him.

"This may be good or bad," Arthur continued determinedly, "but I'm not like you – I'm selfish – I'm a _Kirkland_, and we were taught to take whatever we could, and feel no regrets. So that is exactly why I'm going to do _this_."

And without so much as a warning, Arthur tilted his head up, grasping Alfred's lips with his own. He didn't care the American wasn't responding – he didn't _care _the boy hadn't said a word, and didn't look like he would for a while. He knew it was selfish – but as he'd told Alfred – he _was_ a selfish person.

Arthur left Alfred's lips, throwing his arms around the boy's torso, sobbing quietly, "I _love_ you." Oh, yeah, _now_ he could say it.

There was silence for a minute, Alfred just staring at him, almost with a terrified look behind his glass blue orbs. Alfred glanced at the clock, "I've got to go…" he muttered quietly, pulling out of Arthur's grasp, and left the boy without even a glance behind him as the door shut in an omnibus, almost scarily final way.

Arthur felt the tears trickled down his cheeks, and he chuckled wryly. Of course he wasn't allowed a happy ending – it was funny how he'd been deluded enough to believe even for a minute that he might get the guy of his dreams – the _one_ guy he liked.

Life _sucked_, Arthur decided.

He grabbed his phone, sending a quick text to Gilbert requesting movies, tissues and sweet things. The reply from the albino was almost instant, a definite yes. Gilbert understood him – they could be heartbroken, deluded idiots together, then.

**A/N**

**;A; poor, poor Artie! I wanna hug him (even though I did this all to him ¬.¬)**

**So yes! 125 reviews and growing! I bloody love you guys! X3 thank you so very, very much! **

**Hope you enjoyed reading :D I'm not doing a lot after school tomorrow, so the next chapter should be up hopefully then, or maybe Friday if I get distracted X'D**

**Just for a heads up, I'm probably making this around 30-40 chapters long ^^ everyone will end up smiling in the end! (not too sure _how_ exactly, though! X'D)**

**Love you guys!  
byebyes~**

**(btw, _XiXi Scarlett – _I _love_ the 'Silent-san' nickname X'D it made me grin X'D)**


	22. Battles in the Corridors

**Chapter twenty two – Battles in the Corridors**

Alfred didn't return to Arthur and his dorm all night. Arthur could only assume that he'd decided to stay at a different dorm – Matthew or Owain, probably. He and Gilbert had eaten most of the contents of the 'treat cupboard' as Arthur had christened it, and had indeed cried their eyes out complaining about how stupid Alfred and Matthew were, only to apologise and then rephrase their sentences, telling one and another why they loved their designated Westerner.

They'd just finished watching 'p.s. I love you' and Gilbert was reaching down to place the disc containing 'Dear John' into the drive, before there was a sharp knock at the door. Gilbert and Arthur exchanged glances, hastily wiping at their red eyes before Arthur climbed to his feet, opening the door.

Standing in the frame was none other than Kiku, a very worried look on his face.

"Kiku!" Gilbert greeted, trying his best to smile cheerfully, "What's up?"

"It's Alfred-san and Matthew-san…" He spoke softly, "It… err… seems that they aren't feeling too good."

Arthur sighed dramatically, flicking on the lights and inviting Kiku to take a seat on one of the unmade beds. The Brit quickly grabbed three badly made cups of tea, thrusting them into the hands of Gilbert and Kiku, and keeping one for himself, "Now, tell us what's happened."

Kiku nodded, formally, "Hai, well, you see Alfred-san came in at about nine o'clock. He knocked on the door, asking Matthew-san if he could stay at our apartment. Of course Matthew-san and I agreed, but it seems both of them got a little… emotional. I wasn't sure who to turn to for help…"

"So, what's wrong with them, exactly?" Arthur said inquisitively, nibbling on a doughnut he had yet to finish from his pile of compensation sweets, "It's not like they didn't make _us_ feel emotional," He issued to the waste paper bin, which was overflowing with tissues.

Sighing, Kiku tried his best to remain polite, "You see it seems that they both feel more than a little bad for rejecting you. I don't mean to say that what they did was right – they both ran away from the problem, and if I were to take sides it would defiantly be with the victims – which is to say the both of you." Kiku twiddled his thumbs nervously.

"But what's bothering them so much? If they regret rejecting us then they should just come and talk to us!" Gilbert reasoned, sounding frustrated. Kiku didn't blame Arthur or Gilbert for their slight annoyance at both Matthew and Alfred, but that didn't really mean he wanted Alfred hanging out in his bedroom for the next week, especially as he had plans with Heracles for the majority of the time.

"You see, Alfred-san is… confused at the moment. He came in, and looked very close to tears. He explained the situation to me, and it seems that he is very flattered by your confession Arthur-san, he simply doesn't know how to respond." Kiku explained calmly, then turned to Gilbert, "As for Matthew-san, it seems he also needs a little time to sort out his head – in his own words 'Gilbert isn't _unattractive,_ it's just Francis is _more_ attractive–"

"Well that's pleasant, isn't it!" Gilbert narrowed his red eyes in annoyance, "I know Francis has hair like a supermodel's, and he has an awesome little swagger that shows off his ass, but hell, it hurts being compared to him!"

"Please wait, Gilbert-san, I have yet to finish what Matthew said…" Kiku smiled, slightly amused at Gilbert's reaction, "He finished with 'all I need is time to get over Francis, and I know I'll be able to move on. Maybe then I can date Gilbert.' It seems, you two, you just need to be a little patient. You need to give both Matthew and Alfred some space and time, and they should come around on their own, practically begging for your love."

Arthur and Gilbert blinked at Kiku for a moment, quite shocked at what they were hearing. Kiku blushed at being the centre of their stares, muttering about something Heracles had told him, and that was how he knew everything he did.

"Yeah _right_ Kiku!" Gilbert grinned, throwing an arm around the Japanese boy, "We all know that you can twist any guy around your little finger! You just look so innocent, so no one suspects you! You know_ all_ the tricks!"

"Hmm, I agree with Gilbert. Didn't Sadik Adnan ask you out the other day? I heard him and Heracles almost had a fist-fight over you!" Arthur grinned in awe, "How _do_ you do it?"

Kiku was looking very flustered at this point, "I-I don't intend to do anything, Arthur-san, but please excuse me, I have to attend to Alfred-san and Matthew-san before they eat all of my icecream and end up ill. Pardon me for the intrusion."

With that, the little Japanese boy was scurrying off down the corridoor, a raw blush still visible and his ears bright red. The heartbroken pair turned to grin at each other in a fond way, "Man, he's too adorable…" Gilbert mused as Arthur nodded along with him in full agreement, then disappearing back into their apartment to finally play 'Dear John', not caering it was close to one o'clock in the morning and there would be school in around eight hours.

"More icecream?" Gilbert asked when the pot of Ben and Jerry's had been devoured.

"I think so, don't you?" Arthur smiled sadly, sniffing into his tissue again.

* * *

The next few weeks passed in a similar way. It seemed to have been arranged unofficially that until further notice, Alfred would be rooming with Matthew. Kiku had ended up sleeping in Arthur's dorm in place of the American, and both Kiku and Arthur had become quite close frineds.

In fact, it wasn't just Kiku Arthur was getting closer to. There was of course Gilbert who was becoming closer and closer with him, and through those two Arthur found himself getting along with Felciano and even people like Ludiwg, Antonio, Lovino and even _Francis._ The boys seemed to have created quite a little group between them, with the addition of Alastair, Owain and the Twins. Arthur was starting to feel a little more accepted by society, and although his heart was hurting from Alfred withdrawal symptoms, having the bubbly atmosphere of the boys around him really did warm his heart.

A week after the fiascos with Alfred and Matthew rejecting Arthur and Gilbert, Elizabeth payed a visit to the school. Of course, everyone was expecting her after Emily's warning of the marriage propsal which did indeed come true. The boys had hidden around the spot on the field where Elizabeth was destined to get down on one knee, and when Alastair was to say the definate 'no', all the boys were to run out from behind their trees and bushes and unleash eggy hell on Elizabeth.

Of course, the girls had been equally dirty, and had followed behind Elizabeth, and once the boys had begun flinging eggs at their friend, they mirrored their actions and soon enough 'The Fight of the Chickens and their Eggs' as the battle had previously been christened was in full swing, only to be stopped as all of the teachers from both schools ran out in a mad panic, most of them ending up with shells of the eggs in their hair.

Since then, the schools were lobbing eggs (and even hard boiled ones) at each other upon seeing each other. It was only the other day Arthur had passed Emily in town – he had smiled at her, trying to be mature, but had soon been covered in the yolk from an egg she'd quite happily splattered in his face. From out of nowhere, Alastair and Owain had turned up as back up, their pockets bulging, full of the shelled things. They'd soon scared Emily off, but not without getting their own fair share of eggs pelted at them by the girl.

Arthur truly was happy for his mind being taken off all of the issues surrounding himself and Alfred. It was positively hilarious to watch people like Alastair and Gilbert actually organising scheduled meetings, planning on where to ambush the girls when they'd be at their weakest. The most amusing thing of all was that they were taking it so seriously! If Arthur hadn't known better, he'd have though they were preparing for a _real_ war.

But still, Alfred was always at the back of his mind. Although they weren't really arguing, they weren't really talking either. Upon passing in corridors they would merely acknowledge the other's presence by a slight nod or very rarely a smile. Arthur knew (or hoped he knew) that soon he and Alfred would be friends again. It was like Kiku had said – he just needed some space and some time that was all.

Although patience was one of Arthur's few virtues, he was really struggling to be patient with him this time.

* * *

Owain awoke on the sunny Saturday morning in the way he had done the past few weeks – in Alastair's arms. Since the event around two weeks ago between the two brothers, Owain and Alastair had indeed become closer. They didn't do anything _weird_ like kiss or… more. They just acted like a rather clingy pair of brothers. Sharing a bed was a prime example of their close relationship, others being holding hands, the odd pecks on the forehead or cheek and a hug every hour or so.

Both Owain and Alastair understood that they wouldn't be able to carry on like this forever, but for the time being they were fine. In their current situation, everyone around them was supportive apart from the Head teacher (who pointedly gave them a disgusted look when seeing them touching in any way) as all of them understood their situation. None of their friends judged them, and even some of the girls swooned happily between egg-ambushes.

Owain defiantly preferred this new style of life and by the looks of things so did Alastair. Everything just seemed so much simpler than before, and not a lot mattered. They could just be themselves, and it wouldn't matter what people thought. And as long as Alastair was with him, Owain was happy.

Alastair's eyes were fluttering slightly as he began to stir into consciousness. Owain smiled fondly, running a hand through the boy's fiery red hair. Alastair's jade eyes met Owain's crystal blue ones the next moment as the Scottish boy awoke.

"'Mornin'" Alastair greeted sleepily, sitting up and rubbing his eyes, "Sleep well?"

"Better than I used to – you know my sleeping has improved since we've started sharing a bed~" Owain smiled, winking as he placed a chaste kiss on the redhead's pale cheek, immediately causing a little blush to emerge on the spot where his lips had touched. Giggling, Owain flung his arms around his brother, "Any dreams?"

The Scottish boy grimaced, "Yup. A rather unpleasant one which creeped me out, concerning the events after Alfred and Arthur finally start going out… Why the _hell_ was I dreaming about that?"

Owain chuckled happily, "Because you're a lovely big brother and you want Arthur to be happy, that's why!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Alastair ruffled Owain's hair roughly in a fond way, "What's for breakfast?" he yawned, leaning on Owain's shoulder for support.

"Nothing unless you make it! I want to be served for once in my life, seeing as I'm the one always waiting on you like you're some sort of Prince!" Owain said half-jokingly, half-serious.

"Your wish, then, is my command, my princess! If you want a Prince, then a Prince you shall get! Which therefore makes you the Princess." Alastair reasoned, "Do I get to see you in a pretty pink dress?"

"Only if there's marmalade on my toast." Owain grinned.

Alastair groaned, "We just ran out of marmalade…!"

"I know – that's why I said it, idiot." Owain grinned, receiving a pillow in the face from his brother. A light pillow-fight emerged between the two, and they collapsed on to each other in a pile of bedding and giggles, panting for breath.

"That's not a very nice way to treat a princess, is it?" The Welsh boy grinned, his laugh turning into a gasp of shock as Alastair hoisted him up into his strong arms, carrying Owain bridal style into the kitchen, and placing him safely down on to one of the chairs, resting his knees on the ground and carefully placing a kiss on to Owain's tender hand.

"Is that better, my dear princess?" Alastair smirked, rising to his feet and going to put the kettle on.

Owain blinked a few times, blushing at the sudden treatment he was getting, "I-I'm not a girl…" He muttered, gladly nibbling on a piece of toast Alastair swiftly placed in front of him. Alastair chuckled as he watched Owain lick off all the jam first – it'd been a habit he'd had since very, very young, and no one could stop him from doing it.

"_Diolch, brawd~" _Owain thanked Alastair in his home language, smiling from behind the bread.

They ate in silence until they heard a rather loud '_crash!' _from the corridor, followed by a series of shouts, and a cry that sounded worryingly like Alfred's.

"Bloody hell." Alastair sighed, pulling on his dressing gown, "What're they doing _now?"_

Owain shook his head, "And at this hour of the morning…"

The boys trailed out of the door, poking their heads out like many of their nosy neighbours were to see what the commotion was so early in the morning. Of course right in the centre of the small crowd that'd gathered was Alfred, Arthur, Matthew, Francis and Gilbert – the victims of the school's gossip topics for the past weeks.

"You can stay the hell away from Mattie, you freakish French bastard!" none other than _Gilbert_ was shouting at Francis, seeming to completely forget that up until two weeks ago and their little 'Matthew barrier' as people had taken to calling it, had arisen.

"Hah! Who said I was doing anything? _You_ just jumped to conclusions – _you're_ the one forcing yourself on him! You and Arthur are away planning in your rooms, coming up with desperate little plans on how to lure these two poor, poor boys," Francis issued to Alfred and Matthew, "back into your disgusting arms."

"Do _not_ bring me into this, Frog!" Arthur spat, "As a matter of fact I was out on my way into town with Kiku and the others – come on, let's go!" Arthur grabbed his new friend by the arm, and was about to leave accompanied by Ludwig and Feliciano before Alfred called him back. The first time the boy had spoken to him in two weeks.

"Arthur you _hypocrite!_ Everyone says _I'm_ the one running away, but you're the one who hasn't come to explain himself to me in the past two weeks! And what're you doing right now? You're running away!" Alfred cried, everyone turned to stare at him, a little shocked. Everyone had already established that Arthur was the victim of their problems, and Alfred was the culprit of Arthur's shattered heart, so why on earth was _he_ acting like he was the one suffering?

Arthur turned - now everyone's eyes on him, "I beg your pardon, Alfred. What?"

"You heard me! Why haven't you come to explain anything to me?" He demanded, now looking a little less confident.

Arthur on the other hand looked like he was torn between breaking out into masses of wry, hollow laughter or punching Alfred in the face. Or both. "You want to know _why I haven't come to explain myself?"_ He asked in disbelief, "Alfred Jones, I knew you were narcissistic, but hell that's taking a little far don't you think? _You're_ the one that hasn't said a word to me in weeks – _you're _the one that flat out rejected me like a runt of the pack. _You're _the one that ran away in the first place! I think it's _you_ that owed me an explanation."

There was a silent agreement throughout the crowd as Matthew stepped in. Owain rolled his eyes to Alastair who was watching the unfolding situation and looking like he wanted to bang everyone's heads together, which didn't look like an unappealing action.

"All of you _shut up!_ Francis, Gilbert, you can sort out your own petty problems in your own time. Francis, stay the hell away from me, you broke my heart and I have no plans on talking to you _at all." _Matthew said flatly.

"But_ mon cher,_ I have no idea what I have done…!" Francis pleaded.

"You heard him, Frenchie – back the hell off, will you!" Gilbert cried, now getting annoyed.

Matthew growled, "And you too, Gilbert! You may have some sort of freakish crush on me, but that doesn't mean you can control everything around me! As for _you two_," Matthew turned to Alfred and Arthur, "You're both idiots! Alfred, you're in the wrong, so you should go and apologise to Arthur, and Arthur, you should just try and be a little more _understanding!"_

Everyone then turned on Matthew, suddenly deciding _he_ was the bad guy.

"_Mon cher,_ I am not being funny, but if you plan on me fixing your so-called 'broken heart'" Francis used quotation marks in the air with his fingers, "Then you will need to tell me what I have done! I may be amazing, but as of yet, I cannot read minds, I hate to break it to you."

"If it weren't for me looking out for you _Mattie,_ then do you know how many countless times you'd have been sexually harassed by this idiot!" Gilbert jerked a finger at Francis, who glared at him, "Oh no, sorry, you would've enjoyed that, wouldn't you?"

"Matthew, I hope you understand that you have nothing to do with the business between Alfred and I, so if you could be so kind I'd like it for you to leave me alone." Arthur spat, sounding deadly.

"And as for me, you can leave me alone to! I'm just sticking up for myself!" Alfred growled, though no one paid any attention to him, as everyone really _did_ believe Alfred was the one in the wrong with his situation.

"For God's sake, leave Mattie _alone!"_ A new voice joined. Everyone turned to see Emily and Elizabeth at the end of the hall, both armed with eggs.

Everyone froze for a moment, and then grabbed the nearest egg or throw-able object to them, "FIRE, YOU IDIOTS!" Alastair, the chosen commander called, and everyone forgot about the arguments, and began throwing things at the two girls, who began throwing things right back at them. Soon enough, everyone was out of eggs and covered in yolks and egg whites.

"_YOU'RE ALL FUCKING IDIOTS!"_ Came a new voice, everyone saw Lovino, holding hands with Antonio, the little Italian fuming, "_How so many people can be so retarded is beyond me! _You're all aged twelve and above – _act your age, not your fucking shoe size!_ Now you've all managed to ruin mine and Toni's date, so thank you very fucking much. All of you _scram!"_

With that, everyone realised how childish they were being, and their heads hanging to the ground, headed back into their dorms to get cleaned up, all with heavy hearts at what the Head would say upon discovering that his corridors were now full of egg.

**A/N**

**I wasn't playing otome games all day… really….**

**Aaha! Yes! Lol!**

**Sorry it was such a short chapter! I'm in a uber rush D: I'M SORRY! **

**Thank you for reading/reviews etc. etc.**

**Q_Q I'M LATE X'D  
byebye!**


	23. Revolutions!

**Chapter twenty three – Revolutions!**

"Quite frankly I am _disgusted _with your behaviour. Do you not agree with me, Mrs. Abbott?"

"I agree completely, Mr. Alden. It is disgraceful – every single one of you in here should be ashamed of yourselves!"

Mr. Alden and Mrs. Abbott, the heads of Goverek Boy's and Coverack Girl's school had called a joint assembly between the two schools, cramming the girls and boys into Goverek's hall and lecturing them on their 'despicable behaviour' for throwing around eggs like three year olds. The thing that was making the kids snicker though was that it had taken the head teachers _two years_ to figure out that their schools had been throwing things at one another. Even with 'The Battle of the Tomato Warfare' last year they'd never even suspected their children, and although their battles had often been broken up by passing by teachers, no one had ever reported it to the heads.

Both head teachers were secretly mortified that they'd been so clueless – all of their colleagues and pupils had known something they were completely in the dark about! That was why Miss Héderváry, Mr Edelstein and numerous other teachers were in the hall, being lectured at along with all the other kids. Everyone still found it hilarious, even the teachers.

"I don't care what 'rivalry' students may feel between each other that is no excuse for your behaviour! You should sort it out like respectable young ladies and gentlemen, and talk it over." Mr Alden glared at the teenagers, most of whom, were hanging their heads in 'shame' (most were just looking down to hide the smiles that were breaking out on their faces even quicker than the spots puberty plagued them with).

"It is exactly as Mr. Alden says," Mrs. Abbott continued, frowning, "As much as we encourage you to have contact with the other gender, we must demand that none of this 'contact' includes throwing of eggs or any other food!" (Both Mr. Alden and Mrs. Abbott had a bit of a homophobia issue, and both their schools were weighed down with high gay and lesbian levels, which neither were happy with.) "And no, Miss Felicia, that does not mean that you can throw inedible objects at each other!" Mrs. Abbott glared at an auburn haired girl who looked at the floor in disappointment, as if she was planning on asking the very question that'd just been answered.

"I still have some eggs on me, you know…" Alastair muttered mischievously to Owain, who giggled. Suddenly, Alastair had a thought, "Oi, Owain, get the message going around asking how many eggs people have left on them."

Owain obeyed his orders and soon a Chinese-whisper-type wave was being muttered around the students of both schools. The information quickly came back to Alastair's ears, and after doing a quick mental add-up, it worked out they had about two hundred eggs left. With around four hundred students crammed in the small hall, which would equal one egg between a pair. They'd easily be able to rebel with that…

"Owain, pass the message around that on my word we attack with whatever means of weapon we can find, got it? These two pair of homophobes need to be taught a lesson, no? So today is the way we do it. Revolution, I tell ya!" Alastair grinned.

Surprisingly Owain grinned right back at him, in his rare mischievous frames of mind, "Yes sir." And as promised, the message was passed around quicker than before, and Alastair happily noted students with left over eggs slipping their hands into their pockets and pulling out the shelled foods, ready to throw them upon Alastair's command.

While Alastair and his brother had been mischievously planning their revolution, Miss Héderváry was watching them (she was only standing a few feet away) grinning at how well her boys were doing at planning the ambush. Little did the children know, she was actually going to plan to throw a few eggs at her boss, not caring if she was sacked from her job. The head had been tormenting her since her first day of work, and it had been rather ego-crushing! Being told she was too manly or strong had finally made her a little more feminine, and she was _not_ happy she'd let the head change her like he hand. Exchanging a determined grin with Roderich beside her, who nodded, smiling warmly, the two disappeared out of the hall quietly, heading down to the kitchens to assist in the attack.

Meanwhile, the heads of the schools had somehow managed to steam off the original issue of eggs, and were now lecturing about sexuality. Somehow it always managed to end up like this whenever the schools were called together for a joint assembly. Frankly the kids had had enough.

"We're not saying you shouldn't be homosexual…" Mrs. Abbott began, only for Mr. Alden to take over.

"We're simply saying you shouldn't 'jump on the bandwagon' as the saying goes. Just because your friend has declared his homosexuality, it doesn't mean you have to mirror his actions. Again, if the girl you might have a crush on," he cleared his throat, trying to ignore the irony of his words, "declares she's bisexual, again you do not have to be bisexual with her."

"It is clearly stated in the Bible that homosexuality is wrong, is that correct, Mr. Alden?" Mrs. Abbott said, "But, society had begun to accept such ridiculous habits, and we now have no influence on your preferred gender. But this is not only for your sakes – it is for the sake of your _school._ I'm sure an awful lot of you have heard the terrible rumours that circulate our schools, about how we only produce homosexual students. That is incorrect at the moment, but it could become true any day soon if you – ah, sorry, we don't begin to… change."

Mr. Alden nodded in agreement, "Do you want other people looking down their noses at you, and acting like you have diseases? No, of course you don't – we're not telling you to _hide_ your true self, just cloak it somewhat. Try not to engage in physical relationships in the company of others. Especially if involving a sibling."

At that, Alastair rose to his feet, everyone gazing up at the Scottish pupil with admiration, "Excuse me, sir, but if you are talking about me and Owain, I would like for you to keep your abnormally large nose out of other people's business." Alastair sneaked in the quote from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. When in doubt, quote Sirius and you won't go far wrong, was his motto, "But that is beside the point, much as is the topic you are discussing."

"Alastair, sit down and stop showing yourself up. You may see you as a justice ambassador for your peers, but nothing like that apply to real life. Stop dreaming and sit down, you silly boy. That formal tone doesn't suit you at all." Mr. Alden spat, glaring from behind his glasses.

The Scottish boy didn't shift, and stood there with a triumphant glare on his face as Arthur, Alfred, Gilbert and Francis also stood up.

"Oi, _my_ title is the 'Ambassador of Justice, thank you very much, and I'd prefer it if you didn't take it!" Alfred grinned at Alastair, who grinned right back at the American, forgetting completely about the affairs that morning and the argument with Arthur.

"Very sorry, Alfred." Alastair said, continuing from where he left off, "As I was saying – I don't think a homophobic old twat like you has the right to lecture _us_, the adults of the changing world – one where you will be long gone and dead in – about what we should and shouldn't like. You and Mrs. Abbott may have grown up surrounded by nuns and priests who declared homophobic contact was an act of the devil, but now people are actually waking up a little more. They're understanding that love is love no matter who you fell it for!"

There was a mumble of agreement throughout the students still seated, only to fall silent as Arthur began to speak.

"I second everything my brother says, but I'll go on to say a little more. Not only are you breaching some sort of privacy law, you and Mrs. Abbott fail to see that it is not only the public that are looking down their noses at us – it is you. You both may think you're Godly saints trying to guide us away from the path of the devil, but we all know that isn't true. You are being as condescending as the public are, if not more so. You're telling us to _shield _our true selves, so we don't ruin _your_ reputation, and I think I am not the only one that believes that you two are the 'despicable' ones here."

Mr. Alden looked ready to retort with something, before Emily and Elizabeth stood up as well, closely followed by the Felicia girl from before, Francesca and a tall blonde girl with blue eyes, who was standing protectively over Felicia.

"For once in my life I find myself actually agreeing with the idiots from across the road." Elizabeth commented casually, glancing at her nails, "They're not being shallow, unlike you, miss." She addressed her head teacher eye-to-eye now.

"I second Arthur, Alastair and Elizabeth!" Emily grinned, "Alfred, you're being shown up here, is there not something you'd like to say."

"But of course, Emily." Alfred mock saluted his American comrade, "I also agree with the others, but again would like to add to what they've said. You told us to _cloak_ ourselves? Sir, you really think that pretending to be someone we're not is going to solve something? I've tried to do that, and it's caused more problems that it's solved. The whole _point_ of life it to find out who we _really _are, and it's people like _you_ who stop us!"

At this point, Mr. Alden was looking a little shell-shocked as if he didn't really believe what he was seeing happening. By this time, Shane, Colin, Owain, Feliciano, Kiku, Ludwig – everyone was begging to stand up and join in the rants at their head teachers, both boys and girls alike. They were all _fed up_ of being told what to do by adults that neither knew nor understood them, and finally with the support of Alastair and the others they'd gained the courage.

Soon enough everyone was shouting across their own angry views at the head teachers, all completely forgetting about the planned egg-ambush. Even people like Matthew and Kiku were shouting just as loud as the others and either or to prove a point or just for the hell of it, couples of any gender were animatedly embracing as if to aggravate the teachers even more. There were gay couples kissing, lesbians here and there, and even the odd straight couple. The teenagers really were rebelling.

"Need a hand, anyone?" Miss Héderváry appeared through the doors a moment later accompanied by Mr. Edelstein, Mr Vargas, the languages teacher (and Feliciano and Lovino's uncle) and Mr. Belischmidt, the philosophy and maths professor, also Gilbert and Ludwig's father. Each was holding a little crate between them, which was stacked with eggs.

The teenagers all looked up, seeing the teachers and the eggs. Alastair smirked roughly, "Open fire!" And with the two words, teachers and students a like were lobbing the eggs through the air, cheering at the satisfying '_splat_' it made against either of the head's bodies. Soon eggs were flying around everywhere, both heads equally covered in yolks and whites – but by that time everyone was having too much fun, and rather than attacking the head teachers, the students had begun another battle between the boys and girls. Now no one cared who they hit though, be it comrade, enemy, teacher or head teacher. It was the survival of the fittest!

The fight must've lasted at least half an hour, by which time there wasn't one person that wasn't covered in egg. No one cared their clothes were ruined, or their hair matted. It'd been so much _fun!_ But, sadly all good must come to an end, and before long they'd run out of eggs to throw. Sometime during the fight the head teachers had crept out of the back entrance of the hall, making their escape from the merciless egg throwing, no one had really noticed, and no one _cared_, even the teachers were happily panting and congratulating certain pupils on the off spectacular throw.

"Bloody hell that was mental…" Arthur sighed happily, sinking against the wall, "Who wants to bet we're all getting excluded?"

"Ah, Artie, there are too many of us to get excluded!" Shane said, "If anyone's goin', then it'll be our dear head teachers, do you not all agree?"

There were cheers at the suggestion, and everyone hoped in their heart that their heads would take the not-so-subtle hint and finally resign after years of tormenting children. Well, one can only hope.

With that, the students began trailing back to their own dorms in their respected schools, letting the teachers clean up the hall (they were more than willing to do the job, after all). Boys and girls parted with rough grins, leaving as friends rather than enemies. Again the schools were at peace, though curtsey of Elizabeth and Alastair that peace probably wouldn't last for long.

"Utterly mental…" Arthur muttered under his breath again, smiling at Kiku and Feliciano as they passed him. Suddenly, Arthur felt something cool being pressed into his hands. He wheeled around to see who had placed the object into his palms, but the crowds were too thick to decipher a culprit. He gazed at the object that had sneakily been placed there, finding a slip of paper.

Curiously, he unfolded it to find Alfred's scribbled handwriting scrawled over the paper '_Matthew's dorm after you get cleaned up.'_

Well, thought Arthur, if this was the explanation for Alfred's silence towards him for the past weeks, then he was more than willing to discover what'd been holding the American's tongue. Pocketing the note, Arthur quickly headed back to the dorm, ready to discover what was going through his beloved's mind once and for all.

* * *

Alfred was sitting in his room nervously, chewing on his lip and twiddling his fingers. He had cleaned himself up and was now waiting for the knock on his door to show that Arthur still cared about him. Matthew had kindly given Alfred some space, and had headed over to Francis and Gilbert's dorm to 'sort something out', allowing Alfred to finally explain himself to Arthur.

He hadn't _meant_ to shout at Arthur like he had that morning – really he hadn't. Alfred had felt terrible at his cowardice over the past weeks, and hadn't had the courage to even look Arthur in the eye, let alone talk to him. If he was honest with himself he knew the reason he'd run away at Arthur's confession was because he was scared – scared of what people would think of him if he accepted the confession, and scared of loosing his best friend if he rejected it, which is why he'd chosen to say nothing at all. Sadly, (and well, naturally) Arthur had taken his silence to be a rejection, and he had indeed lost his best friend.

But, after that egg fight in the afternoon, Alfred had suddenly realised that he was doing exactly what the Head was telling them to do – cloak their true personalities. _Then_ Alfred understood that if he continued to do so, people wouldn't like him for the Alfred he really was, but more for 'Fake Alfred' – the Alfred who he _wanted_ to be, but wasn't him. Who was he kidding? The people around him knew him better than he did himself!

One thing Alfred _did_ know about 'Real Alfred' was that he _did not_ like Arthur and Kiku hanging around together. Neither did he like Arthur and Feliciano, Ludwig, or _anyone_ in fact hanging around with Arthur. Arthur was _his_ best friend, and Alfred didn't like his spot being taken.

_Well,_ he thought to himself, _it was kinda your fault you lost that spot, idiot._

His thoughts were quickly silenced by a few taps on the door. Alfred began spluttering slightly – now terribly nervous. He hadn't actually expected Arthur to _come_, and hadn't really thought about what he was going to say to the Brit. But, nevertheless, whit a shaking hand, Alfred lifted the latch open, and inched the door open, looking down at the floor not wanting to meet Arthur's inevitably harsh gaze.

"Alfred F. Jones, if you're going to invite someone to your dorm then at least have the courtesy to look them in the eyes whenever they greet you." Arthur said crisply. Alfred shamefully brought his eyes up to meet Arthur's stare that was indeed harsh and icy.

"S-sorry…" Alfred muttered, closing the door behind Arthur and signalling for him to sit down on Matthew's bed. Arthur shifted a few pillows and took a seat, watching Alfred as he sat across from Arthur, crossing his legs and looking at the gap between them on the duvet, "I owe you an explanation."

"As do I." Arthur said in reply. Alfred looked up, confused, and Arthur began to explain, "You were right before when you said I was running away like you did. I'm not saying I forgive you for ignoring me for weeks, but I should explain what I confessed as suddenly as I did. It wasn't fair to catch you so off guard… I should've at least warned you. For that I'm sorry, but that doesn't mean that I don't feel any different about you Alfred Jones, and don't you forget it."

Alfred met Arthur's gaze then, the find that the cold glare Arthur had been giving him was not more of a desperate, apologetic stare, which made Alfred feel even guiltier. He sat up, and took Arthur's hand in his own, never once breaking his stare.

"Arthur, listen, you haven't done anything wrong. This is my entire fault – I was scared of loosing my reputation, or loosing you and I was stupid and chose the second option. Hell, in this place I wouldn't even loose my reputation! It's rarer to find a straight guy here, so if anything I'd loose reputation to like women… But that's beside the point. The reason I haven't spoken to you is because I'm scared… I figured that after I sort of accidentally rejected you, you'd hate me. I thought the reason you were hanging around with Kiku and the others was to say to me 'look, you've been replaced' and I figured that you wanted nothing to do with me…"

Blinking a few times, Arthur stared at Alfred, a bewildered look on his face, "You _idiot_. I was with Kiku and the others because I didn't want to walk around the school like the friendless loner I was before I met you! I was waiting for your explanation, and then hoped we could go back to being best friends again. It seems you have understood what you've done wrong, so for ow I forgive you. I do have one question, though."

Alfred tilted his head, "What?"

"Ehh… well, what is your answer?"

"To?" Alfred was in a clueless mood.

Groaning, Arthur blushed heavily, his fingers shaking in the palm of Alfred's hand – they weren't shaking with embarrassment – he was shaking in fear of getting rejected. Again. "Your answer to… my confession."

"Oh that…" Alfred muttered, "I'll tell you truthfully, okay? But I don't want you running off crying, understood? Don't be upset, because it's not a no."

"But then it's not a yes either?" Arthur sighed heavily, pulling his hand out of Alfred's, "I get it. Don't worry; you don't have to take pity on me… I'm jus a love struck fool. I was too hopeful again. I'll see you on Monday." Arthur quickly headed for the door, sighing heavily.

Alfred panicked, and caught Arthur's arm in his get away, pulling him around so they could look each other in the eye, "Arthur Kirkland, you hypocrite. Get back here, and no running off! I haven't finished my sentence!" Alfred smiled weakly.

The Brit obediently stopped, looking at Alfred for him to continue but said nothing.

"It's not a yes, but it's not a no. I'm saying I want _time,_ Arthur – time is all I need, and I have no doubt that after you give me enough of it, I'll swoop you into my arms and kiss you like you've never been kissed before. It's nothing you've done; I just need to come to terms with my new self. And before you ask, it could take months, it could take days, I have no idea how long it might take. If you can wait for me, and take someone as selfish as me back with you, then you can have me."

"What if I can't wait?" Arthur muttered sombrely.

"Then know that I'll forever be waiting for you in the wings if you change your mind." Alfred rested a hand on his friend's shoulder, "I'm sorry I'm so selfish."

Arthur shook his head, "Not selfish. But… I want something to wait – a preview of what I'll get when you're finally ready." A pause, "_That's_ selfish. Learn from the pros."

Alfred chuckled, "You mean like a kiss?" Arthur nodded, blushing, "Well, I don't see what harm it could do, do you?" Alfred smiled, and then tilted Arthur's head up, placing a chaste little kiss on his lips that lasted for a moment or two, "Am I worth waiting for?"

Suddenly, a wave of confidence found Arthur, "You'll have to wait until the morning to find out~" And with a wink, Arthur had disappeared off down the corridor, back to his own room. Alfred watched him go, shaking his head fondly.

"I'll hurry up, Artie…" He muttered to himself, knowing the Brit wouldn't hear him. Well, nothing left to do but sleep, really, Alfred reasoned, and within minutes he was lying on his mattress, ready to enter the dream world.

* * *

Alfred was awoken the next morning by Matthew prodding him repetitively.

"You've got mail, now get up! I want to know what it is!" The Canadian insisted, not giving Alfred any grief. The American rose from under the covers, rubbing his eyes as he saw a large, over-the-top looking package on his bed. No wonder Matthew had woken him up; it was a very intriguing package. It wasn't wrapped all that well, and looked almost circular in places.

"What the hell is this?" Alfred asked, picking it up and rotating it.

"I don't know – that's why I've been trying to get you to wake up! It was on our doorstep this morning, so hurry up and open it!" Matthew insisted, looking like he was about to rip his hair out.

"Okay, okay! Calm it; I'm opening it, for god's sake!" Alfred grinned, ripping apart the brown parcel paper. After the terrible wrapping job had been ripped apart, Alfred found that the paper had been concealing a clock. It was simple, it couldn't have cost very much. The two looked at it in curiosity, turning it over. "And this was addressed to me?"

Matthew nodded, "Yup – it just said you name, no sender or anything. Not even an address – so they must've left it here manually."

Alfred glared at the clock trying to work out what was going on. He turned it over again, and for that in the back right next to the place where you put the batteries was a scratch, "Cheeky bastard – whoever sent it to me – it's been damaged! Plus it's not even showing the right time…"

"Oh no, hang on…" Matthew muttered, bringing the clock into the light, "It's not a scratch – it's initials… 'A.K'… Arthur! Arthur sent it!"

"What? Why is he sending me clocks? I can tell the time, for God's sake." Alfred muttered, casting his mind back on to why on earth Arthur would send him a _clock_ of all things. Then he realised! "Oh! Clocks! Matthew –_I get it!"_

"Well please enlighten me, Alfred!" Matthew sounded stressed. He hated not knowing things.

"He's giving me time, Matthew! Not a clock – the thing the clock shows – time! Bloody hell he's a mysterious bloke." Alfred grinned, pleased he'd worked out Arthur's little brain teaser.

"You're starting to sound like him, Alfred. But what're you on about? Why do you need time? How can he give you time? Alfred? Alfred! Come back!" Matthew cried, but Alfred was already getting changed, brushing his teeth. Within five minutes he was heading out of the door.

"I need to talk to Arthur! Thanks, Mattie! I'll explain later!" And with that, Alfred was dashing down the corridor.

**A/N**

**AHHH! So cliché! X'D lol Arthur giving Alfred 'time'… ahh I need original ideas… XD**

**Sorry I didn't update yesterday ^^" I was procrastinating badly, and then had to go to my karate class -.-" I hate it there X'D EXERCISE SUCKS. But I'd be fat without it… I'm sorry exercise, I love you really.**

**Thank you all for kind reviews :) and thank you for reading ^^**

**-.-" I know the start was unrealistic X'D I'm sorry XD  
Also, Mr. Vargas and Mr. Belischmidt (I did not just writ Mrs.) are of course Rome and Germania~ :D but they're not dating or anything, cause then Ludwig and Feli would be related, and I think this fic has seen enough incest, no? XD**

**Have a very good day everyone~  
Thank you once again!  
**


	24. Miss Héderváry

**Chapter twenty four – Miss Héderváry**

"Alastair~ let me _in_ you heartless bastard~!"

"No, bugger off you useless German!"

"But Francis kicked me out!"

"For once I agree with the French bastard!"

Gilbert was pathetically rolling on the floor outside Alastair and Owain's dorm, attempting (and failing) to gain his friend's sympathy. Francis had indeed kicked poor Gilbert out, though Gilbert failed to mention that it was kind of his fault he'd been kicked out. The two friends had engaged in a fight (again) involving Matthew. Gilbert had started complaining how lucky Francis was to have Matthew loving him, but Francis had said it was a bit of a pain. That'd made Gilbert snap with jealousy and protective issues over Matthew, and the two had involved in physically fighting.

Of course awesome Gilbert had won the fight. But afterwards, Francis had caught Gilbert off guard, and quite literally _thrown_ Gilbert out of their dorm room, and locked the door behind him. Now it seemed, no one wanted to let Gilbert into their dorms, as they were afraid of him ruining anything he touched.

"Well can you go and talk to him? Or get Owain to! Yeah, Owain'll convince him to let me back in, right? Owain? Please say you will?" Gilbert begged through the wood.

The Germany sneakily tried to listen in to the muffled mutters behind the door (Alastair was probably convincing Owain that it would be a bad idea to help Gilbert) and, sure enough a second or two later, there came a quiet call from Owain: "Ah… Gilbert I'm a little busy today…"

"Okay… I understand…" Gilbert hung his head, about to wonder off to go and find someone else to love him.

"W-Wait!" Owain called from the door, finally cracking – Alastair's panicked 'whispers' to stop Owain letting Gilbert in could be heard loud and clear, "You should come in and have breakfast…" and then to Alastair, "It's a day of rest, Alastair! We might not believe in God, but mum did, and if we disrespect her principles it'd make me feel uncomfortable."

Gilbert grinned triumphantly as the door swung open, happily letting himself in. He craned his head around the door to find Alastair moodily climbing out of bed (which, apparently he now shared with Owain, Gilbert noted) and reluctantly let his friend into the kitchen. Gilbert helped himself to some bread, while watching Alastair address the kettle.

"Getting cosy, aren't we, Al?" The albino said between mouthfuls of the plan bread.

"Shut it. At least I _have_ someone to hug." Alastair moodily slumped down on the chair opposite, sighing, "So what did you do to Francis this time?"

Swallowing his mouthful, Gilbert chuckled, "What did _he _do to _me_, I think the question is."

"Go on then, enlighten me with your Godly knowledge." Alastair grumbled, obviously indifferent about what'd happened between the two.

"_Well…"_ Gilbert started, not caring Alastair was so moody, "Francis seems to think he's completely innocent with the whole Matthew thing – he's not even lying, he _genuinely_ doesn't know what he's done. That _may_ have something to do with the fact Matthew hasn't actually spoken to him about it; he's just assuming everything because he heard Francis and Arthur talking about him."

Alastair leaned in, a little more interested now, "So what, Matthew is assuming Francis was only playing about with him because he heard Francis and Arthur talking about it? Then that got him pissed with Francis, and they haven't even _spoken _about it?"

Gilbert nodded, "They're idiots, aren't they?"

"Bigger idiots than _you_." Alastair confirmed, about to light up a cigarette, and then seemed to think better of it and casually flung the cigarette into the bin.

"So I got pissed with Francis about this, and told him that he was lucky to have someone as sweet as Matthew loving him, and that they should go and talk. But he _insisted_ that there was nothing to talk about, and that he had much better things to do than 'indulge in petty issues that don't involve him' in his own words. The 'better things' I can only assume includes attempting to seduce Owain."

"He's still stuck up on that, is he?" Owain grumbled, waddling into the kitchen with his quilt wrapped around him, the ends trailing on the floor, "Bloody hell."

"Y'know what, I think you should go for it." Alastair muttered.

"What?" Owain and Gilbert asked at the same time, both thinking Alastair had been talking to them.

Alastair shrugged, "I'm talking to both of you. Think about it – it'd make perfect sense, wouldn't it? If Gilbert managed to catch Matthew, and you, Owain, gave into Francis' love. The whole situation would be solved."

The pair goggled at Alastair, like he'd gone insane.

"Have you _seen _Matthew around me? Ever since I've confessed it's like he hates me! Hell, he probably does!" Gilbert reasoned, while Owain was having his own spluttering problem.

"But you were the very person who wanted me and Francis to break up! I much prefer life as it is _now_, thank you." Owain sighed, wrapping his quilt tighter around his skinny body.

Rolling his eyes, Alastair sat up, "Both of you're lying to me. Gilbert I can expect, but Owain, I'm disappointed in you, lad. Now, calm down, both of you." Alastair turned to Gilbert first, "You've seen Matthew around you. Does he ever shout at you? Has he told you he hates you?"

"No… but…" Gilbert muttered.

"No. Stop – I'm talking. Gilbert, the reason Matthew avoids you and ignores you is because every time his meets you in the eye, his cheeks burn up. You're all so blind! Every single student in this school is an _idiot._ Complete _idiot._" Alastair was starting to sound a little pissed off, "Gilbert, can you not _tell?_ Matthew is fucking head over heels for you, but he doesn't realise it himself, because he's _scared_. He's only just admitted to himself that he likes Francis, and now his heart is telling him otherwise. _You _just have to wait for him to accept you, try sending him flowers every day or something romantic."

Before Gilbert had a chance to reply, Alastair turned to his brother.

"As for _you,_ Owain Dafydd Kirkland, you can stop denying the fact you used to love Francis, and perhaps still did. Last year when you were dating him you were the happiest I've ever seen you – hell you were like on of your dragons you adore so much – you were flying up to Cloud Nine and even fucking further! You were _so_ happy with him, and I think you might even be happier than that if you got with him now. He may be a bit of a bastard at times, but even _you_ have to agree that he was so fucking sweet to you he could do a better job at rotting your teeth than sugar could."

Owain stared at the floor a moment, not saying anything, "But I don't have any feelings for him…"

"Why did you two break up, anyway?" Gilbert asked, suddenly realising he knew nothing about the details of the famous break up of the school's favourite couple.

Making sure to hide his face under the quilt before speaking, Owain shamefully muttered, "H-he… eh…"

"He proposed." Alastair frowned.

Gilbert practically toppled over on his chair, choking on his dry bread, "_WHAT!_ Like _marriage?_ And he was _serious!"_

Owain missed the brilliant opportunity for sarcasm or wry humour and just nodded glumly, "He was 100% serious… Of course I said no, and we got into an argument about it. When he came to apologise I was still too pissed to say anything to him, and we just… drifted apart."

"Of course, if I hadn't have been there then you might've got back together." Alastair sighed, annoyed with himself, "I deliberately convinced Owain that Francis was scum, and that there was no point in paying any attention to him. Before he knew it, Owain had kidded himself to believe he hated the stupid frog."

"And I do hate him, thank you very much, Alastair!" The Welsh boy glared at his brother before going off to curse Francis in Welsh quietly to himself, "And even if I _did_ like him – _which I don't –_ there's no way he'll take me back after a bloody year. He's _Francis_ for God's sake! It's not like he's unattractive."

No one opposed Owain's statement – it was very true that Francis was _very_ attractive, and more often than not if you went around the school and asked if anyone had secretly fancied Francis in the past, 90% both heterosexual and homosexual would say they had, and 9% who said they _hadn't_ would be lying. He was one impressive man-whore.

"Ah, it'll work out one day." Gilbert sighed, climbing to his feet, "Good luck seducing Francis, Owain. Thanks for the bread and the advice!" The albino saluted, and ran out without a backwards glance.

"You're all fucking idiots." Alastair repeated again, fondly ruffling Owain's hair before going to make yet another mug of tea.

* * *

Gilbert was once again wondering around the school, unsure what to do with himself. Antonio and Lovino were trying again with their failed date from yesterday, so of course they were unavailable. Feliciano was helping Kiku out in the music department, and Ludwig was off doing some 'special errands' for their father, Mr. Belischmidt. He'd fallen out with Francis – Arthur was busy discussing clocks or something with Alfred, and Matthew was missing. There was nothing to do, and no one to talk to. The school was completely empty, because apparently there was some weird concert thing in town, and Gilbert was _bored._

Gilbert was also _worried._ A thing he wasn't all that used to feeling.

He was worried about his situation with Matthew, and the moment he recognised the twisting feeling in his stomach, Gilbert knew that everything he'd said about his feelings had been true. Gilbert never really felt anything for anyone. Of course, he felt gutted for Antonio if Lovino dumped him (again) or pissed with Francis if he bragged about how silky his hair was, but he never really dwelled on those feelings. The only other person he'd actually been worried over was…

"Yo, Gil! Why're you moping in my corridor? Go and cause trouble somewhere else."

The albino looked up and met the eyes of the very person he didn't want to see – his technology teacher, Miss Héderváry, "Alright, miss, I'm going, I'm going, just don't tell the Head on me – we've all got in enough shit this weekend after that egg fiasco yesterday." He slumped to his feet and was about to wonder off, when her voice pulled him back.

"You know, Alden's put in a letter of resignation." She mused nonchalantly, "He's leaving."

Gilbert turned fast on his feet, "_What!_ The bastard's retiring? Who's gunna be the next Head then?"

She shrugged, "That's what I've been told – according to Coverack Abbott's going too. You must've scared them off. 'pparently your dad's taking up the job."

Jaw dropping open, Gilbert groaned, "_Dad?_ No, there's no way _he_ can be head! I've got it bad enough getting taught maths by him! This _cannot_ be happening…"

Miss Héderváry grinned boyishly, "Aww, don't worry, Gil! Your dad's a good man, I'm sure he'll let you off with the odd rule-breaking. He raised you and Ludwig well, despite the fact you can be a right pain in the ass at times."

"Thanks, miss, you know how to make a guy feel loves." Gilbert rolled his eyes, turning to leave again.

Once again, he was called back by her voice, "What's wrong, Gilbert?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Gilbert scowled, not bothering to turn around, "I'm perfectly fine, thank you very much."

She scoffed cockily, "Yeah right – Gilbert we _both_ know that something's bothering you. I've taught you for three years, I know when you're not acting yourself, and right now you are most defiantly the sweet little albino who is secretly a right teacher's pet."

"Shut it, miss, I'm _fine." _Gilbert began walking.

"Now that is no way to speak to your superiors, Gilbert Belischmidt. As I said before, I can see right through you when you're down, because it doesn't happen very often. Now tell me this, is it about Matthew?" Miss Héderváry knew him well. _Too_ well. Gilbert groaned whenever she got the target first go. "I'm right, aren't I?"

"Of course you are." Gilbert gave in, realising he really wanted someone to talk to about his troubles, "How did you know? I can't be _that_ obvious, can I?"

She tapped her nose mischievously, "Aww, bless you – no, I didn't guess. It just seems that registration is now 'universal gossip time' throughout year eight and those boys all think I'm deaf. You should _hear_ the things I've heard."

"Miss, I was probably involved in all of them." Gilbert smiled sadly, "Or at least started the rumour."

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure about that, Gil. But you're right, you probably do know most of them – they're generally surrounding that darling Alfred boy, now and then Lovino. I've heard quite a few about Matthew too…" Miss Héderváry just waved off Gilbert's curious expression, "Now sit down and tell me what's wrong."

The two wondered inside her technology classroom, taking a seat on two opposite classroom chairs, a table separating them. Gilbert sighed, resting his head down against the wood, feeling the weight of Miss Héderváry's warm hand on his platinum white hair, soothingly brushing through his hair.

"I'm in love and I don't know why, or what to do, or how I should do it… I'm confused." Gilbert sighed heavily, talking to the wood, and then slowly began to explain what'd happened with Matthew from the beginning, glad that she didn't interrupt him, and only 'mm'-ed in the right places.

After he'd finished, she stayed silent for a moment, just thinking about what to say, "Ah… I understand your situation, Gil… It's not unlike mine a while ago."

Gilbert lifted his head in curiosity, to find Miss Héderváry smiling a warm and nostalgic smile, a distant look in her eyes.

"A story for a story, yeah? Maybe you could benefit from an old woman's tale." She giggled slightly.

"Miss, you _are not_ old. My _dad_ isn't even old, and he's like… forty five." Gilbert pouted childishly, "You must be what, twenty five?"

"Oh Gilbert, you are sweet!" She laughed happily, "I'm forty six, honey."

The albino blinked his blood red eyes a few times, not really getting what she said, "_Forty six! _Hell! You don't look it!"

She chuckled again, ruffling his hair fondly, "Thank you, my dear. Now let me carry on with my story." Gilbert obediently listened, "So, whenever I was in school, I was friends with three equally amazing boys. First there was your father, Legolas,"

"Stupidest name ever." Gilbert muttered, "My granddad was nuts naming his kid after a _Lord of the Rings_ character, I mean _really?_"

"I know! I was quite amused by it myself! So yes, your father Legolas, then there was Feliciano and Lovino's uncle, Roma, and then your music teacher, Mr. Edelstein, or as we knew him back then, Roderich. We were always quite close friends, and I'll let you into a little secret, all three of them were head over heels for me, apparently! Each of them asked me out, but I rejected all of them – I thought they were takin' the piss, y'know! Well, that and the fact that at the time I was more into girls than guys."

Gilbert almost exploded blood everywhere, "_Seriously!_ You were a lesbian? That is badass!"

Miss Héderváry winked, "That's bisexual, actually. But yeah, all three of them were mortified when I said I was going out with a girl, but no one seemed too surprised. Me and the girl broke up after a while – we had… difficulties. I was pretty heartbroken, y'know, because you _do_ get heartbroken after break ups, don't you?"

"I couldn't tell you…" Gilbert sighed, "I've never been in a serious relationship, really."

She smiled sympathetically, ruffling his hair, "Don't worry Gil, don't worry." And continued, "So by this time I was well into my twenties, and Roma had moved back to Italy to stick around with his other family, and Legolas was studying in university pretty much full time to become a philosopher. I didn't know what to do with myself – I felt useless. For this other girl I'd pretty much given up my education and all my spare time. I'd neglected Roderich and the others, and I'm surprised they even took me back as a friend. I had no qualifications, no money, and I was stuck. Luckily, Roderich, who was earning good money as a professor of music said he'd take me in."

"Seriously? That guy was a professor?" Gilbert narrowed his eyes, "Why'd he come here? And what does this have to do with me and Mattie?"

"All in good time, all in good time! So we were rooming together for a while, and I finally got into a collage that was quite cheap. By thirty I'd finally managed to get a qualification or two up my sleeve, and was job hunting, which is when this place was offering up jobs. The teachers there were all pretty old, and because Padstow is a small place, they never got the chance to employ any new teachers. They all retired at around the same time, and some spaces came open for teaching. Now, of course I took the technology position without much hassle."

"But then how did my dad and the others end up teaching here?" Gilbert interrupted.

Miss Héderváry rolled her eyes, laughing, "I'm getting there, you impatient child! It was about this time that the university that both your father and Roderich were teaching in shut down due to lack of interest. So, you had two jobless professors – of course, the school begged them to apply for the jobs. Of course they were both reluctant as the pay wasn't all too good, but both decided eventually to take it, due to a lot of persuasion from me. I feel bad about that now – they could've gone anywhere! Both such bright guys…

"Then you were born – oh I remember how cute you were back then! Your mother was _so_ proud of you. And Legolas! He was _over the moon! _I know you find that hard to believe, don't you? I don't blame you – he _never_ smiles, does he? Lovino was born around the same time over in Italy – of course we didn't know that at the time. The next year, Ludwig was born, and guess who returned from Italy looking for a job? Roma saw that the newly-born Feli and Lovi's parents weren't really 'fit for parenting', so he brought his own kids – the two girls Felicia and Romana and his nephews, of course Feliciano and Lovino over here for 'a new start'. Almost immediately Ludwig and Feliciano became friends, even at such a young age. Of course, you'd be too young to remember this, but since your mother passed away shortly after Ludwig was born, and Roma and Legolas were always so busy with work, me and Roderich would always keep an eye on you all, as our departments weren't as demanding."

Gilbert goggled for a second, "So what – you've watched me grow up? That's…"

"Heart warming? So compassionate it brings a tear to your eye?" Miss Héderváry tried, grinning.

Muffling a snort, Gilbert covered his mouth, "I was thinking more creepy and disturbing. But carry on with your story."

Miss Héderváry sniffed indifferently, but then broke her serious façade with her usual smirk, "Cheeky kid, but yes, I will. About five years ago, whenever you were, what, ten? We all went to the zoo – all of us this time, that being Feli, Felicia, Lovi, Romana, Roma, Legolas, Ludwig, me, you and Roderich. We were a huge group, and everyone seemed to steer clear of us…"

"Hey! I remember that! And Roma bought me this gigantic ice cream, but I tripped and it went everywhere?" Gilbert perked up, remembering the wonderful day of watching the birds fly about in their cages.

"Yes, yes, that was it! Well, it wasn't only special for you in that way. Do you remember that on that very day you came up to me and said 'Lizzie, when I grow up, I'm going to marry you, just like that couple over there', and you'd pointed to a sensible looking family." Miss Héderváry smiled fondly.

Gilbert's usually pale face was now as vibrant as his blood-red eyes, the tips of his ears looking like they were about to drop off, "I _did not_ say that!" But sadly, now that he'd been reminded of it, Gilbert knew that she was telling the truth, as he could remember the instance quite clearly, among other memories of Elizabetha looking after him as a child.

"You were so cute! So I told you that 'When you were taller than me and still felt that way, then I might say yes'. Of course I was kidding around, but you weren't the only one to take it seriously (you were over the moon, by the way!) Roderich seemed to be a little worried. Now, this is how my story relates to you and Matthew…

"Both me and Roderich at the time had feelings for each other, though neither knew of the other's feelings. After me brutally rejecting him in high school, Roderich was pretty convinced that I was never going to accept his love, especially after everything that'd happened with me and that other girl. I was convinced myself that Roderich was gay (I was quite excited by the idea, actually) and that he was never going to come out – you see he was pretty friendly with both Roma and Legolas, both of whom are bisexual, I'll have you know. So we were both pretty much head-over-heels for each other, without the other knowing."

"My dad's bisexual?" Gilbert asked, getting off topic, "I thought he was way too 'proper' for that…"

Rolling her eyes, Miss Héderváry smiled, "Yes, he is – apparently he even dated Roma in high school for a bit, but hell, we all knew they were never going to become the item of the year – Roma was obsessed with sex while Legolas was embarrassed by the whole idea."

"Too – much – information!" Gilbert waved his hands about, panicking and not wanting to hear unnecessary things about his dad's childhood, "But carry on, carry on – you and Edelstein were in love but didn't know it."

"Ah yes, in love. We only came to know of the other's feelings when Roma and Legolas worked together to point it out. We both swallowed our pride and confessed to one another, and soon became a couple. But both of us are the pretty insecure type, and despite your age, Roderich was constantly feeling threatened by you, as ridiculous as it sounds. He must've taken me for some sort of pedophile!"

"Hah! I'm just so awesome, you see!" The albino was quite pleased with himself for intimidating that guy, even though his reasoning was complete bollocks.

"Yeah, yeah, you keep telling yourself that." She grinned, continuing, "Throughout the early stages of our relationship we were both convinced the other secretly despised us, and was talking about us behind our backs. Of course it was utter crap – we both loved each other like Feliciano loves pasta. More even. It took a long time and quite a few break ups before we truly trusted each other."

Gilbert nodded slowly, taking it all in, "But what does this have to do with me and Matthew?"

Miss Héderváry smiled kindly, "I'm saying you might _think_ that Matthew hates you, but perhaps deep down he has feelings for you, but because of his pride he just can't admit it to himself, let alone you. Also, it may take some persistence, but eventually you'll win his love! It took Roderich twenty years and countless attempts of asking me out on dates. Hell, I even rejected his proposal the first time he asked! But look where we are now – I think we're happier than most average couples. I'm not saying it'll 100% work with you and Mattie, I'm just telling you not to give up on what you really love."

"You could've just _told_ me that rather than telling me your whole life story." Gilbert pouted, though secretly he was quite happy what he'd found out about the past.

"Ah, shut it you ungrateful child! Besides, you should know someday, right? And I doubt Legolas will ever bring it up – he's too upset about remembering your mother's death…" Miss Héderváry smiled kindly again, "And to predict the future you must first know the past!"

"Give credit when you quote, miss." Gilbert said patronisingly, a devious grin plastered all over his face, "So you're telling me I shouldn't give up on Mattie? That I should wait until he likes me back?"

With a nod, Miss Héderváry stood up, "That's exactly right – and as corny as it sounds, follow your heart, Gilbert. You're a good kid."

The albino decided not to take the mic out of her, and stood up, nodding, "Yes miss. Thank you!" Gilbert held his hand on the door handle, "For everything."

Miss Héderváry smiled, nodding, "It's my pleasure, Gilbert – now go and make us all proud, you precious boy. Win the heart of that boy!"

"I will!" And with that, Gilbert ran out of the door, knowing exactly what to do, and exactly how to do it, thanks to the help from his First True Love.

**A/N**

**Ahh~ long chapter about nothing really important . I'm sorry /bows/ I hope it wasn't too boring. I just felt I wanted to make Germania, Austria, Rome and Hungary more than just teachers. I'm in love with that little image of them all going to the zoo! I'm sorry XD  
So yes, I hope it wasn't too boring XD I don't know what I'm going to write next chapter, so I can't promise any USUK, PruCan, Franada or Francis/Owain X'D I really don't know what I'm going to do with all of them, so hopefully I'll be enlightened soon XD**

**And lame names are lame, I know -.-" X'D there was nothing on the internet I could find quickly on what people call Germania and Rome for their human names – not even nicknames :I Apart from the fact Germania was nicknamed 'Legolas'. So now Gilbert and Ludwig's family are all hardcore Lord of the Rings fans XD**

**Thank you for reading, and thank you if you reviewed!  
Byebye!**


	25. Dominant or Submissive?

**Chapter twenty five – Dominant or Submissive?**

"Hey, Ludwig~" Feliciano called happily, "Look at what my brother gave me~! It's a super-pretty shell he found at the beach the other day!"

Ludwig glanced up from his homework, scanning the radiant shell quickly, "It's very pretty Feliciano, now can you let me continue with my homework, please?"

Feliciano hung his head in apology, "Sorry! I forgot you were doing your maths coursework~ you're so much better at maths than everyone else, Ludwig! Doing exams three years early and everything – you'll be the next Pythagoras!" He happily slid down on to the floor next to Ludwig, watching his friend scribble down the complicated-looking symbols and strings of numbers.

"I'm impressed, Feliciano – you remembered his name!" Ludwig genuinely was surprised that little Feliciano had remembered something maths-related.

The Italian pouted childishly, "Of course I remembered – I remember everything you tell me! Your maths lessons are _way_ better than Mr. Belischmidt's." He announced happily, and suddenly recalled that Belischmidt was in fact Ludwig's father, "Ehh… I mean, his lessons are good, but you're even better!"

"Don't worry about it, Feli," Ludwig chuckled, ruffling the boy's hair, avoiding the curl with skill, "I'm flattered by your kindness."

Feliciano grinned, flapping his arms around, "I'm not being kind – I'm just being me! Plus you're super-_duper_ kind to me, so I should be super-duper-duper-_duper_ kind to you, right?"

Ludwig chuckled again, weakly hugging his friend, "Don't worry so much, Feli. Just be you and you'll be fine, okay?"

The auburn haired boy beamed with his cute, innocent grin, turning Ludwig's light embrace into a full-blown bear hug, holding on a little bit too long than the socially accepted hugging-time, though neither cared. Finally, Ludwig decided that he was loosing track of number in his mind, so had to pull away before starting his two hour work from scratch. Feliciano laughed at the serious expression on his friend's face, surprisingly calmly just watching Ludwig scrawl out the numbers.

Of course the blessing didn't last long, and soon Feliciano was talking again, "Hey, Ludwig?"

"Mmm?"

"Y-y'know you sometimes call me 'Feli'?" Feliciano sounded oddly bashful, "Well… everyone else calls me Feli all the time… even Arthur sometimes…"

Ludwig looked up, not able to resist poor Feliciano's 'pity me' tone, "Yes?" he was slightly confused on where the conversation was heading.

"Well… can you call me Feli, like, _all the time?"_ He asked bashfully, "I-it just feels nicer, y'know? I know it's childish of me… but I feel like I'm closer with you… 'Feliciano' sounds so formal…"

The German smiled at Feliciano's juvenile, yet adorable request, "Of course Felici—Feli." Ludwig corrected quickly, "If it makes you feel better then of course I will. I'm your best friend – you're right! Plus 'Feliciano' is a bit of a mouthful, no?"

Feliciano nodded jubilantly, pulling Ludwig into yet another hug of sheer glee. He knew that getting excited over a smile removal of five letters of his name was nothing big, but it still made his heart race that little bit more. It was a weird heart-racing though, Feliciano had decided. It wasn't like the heart-racing he'd got whenever he kissed Kiku or Matthew – that heart-racing was from the adrenaline of the whole situation – doing something he knew he shouldn't really be doing. But with Ludwig, it just seemed like his stomach would flip out at any moment. And Feliciano may act stupid, but deep down he could be composed if he really, _really_ wished to – and he wasn't an idiot. He was Italian, for God's sake! He knew they were symptoms of an affectionate heart.

Although he knew full well that Ludwig was bisexual, and that there had been many rumours about Ludwig having a gigantic crush on Feliciano, said Italian was still too nervous to bring up the topic with Ludwig. What if he got the wrong idea? What if he was so creeped out, he'd leave and never want to talk to Feliciano again? Part of Feliciano knew that he was being irrational and stupid, but the other part – his heart to be exact – was insisting that it was a possible outcome.

"Feliciano." Ludwig whispered, breaking the thought-bubbles that had been floating around Feliciano's usually empty head. The Italian looked up, curious as to why on earth Ludwig would knowingly distract himself from his precious maths work to start a conversation.

"Ehh…" Ludwig wasn't too sure how to begin, "Well, you know me and you… what are we?"

Feliciano blinked a few times, really not understanding Ludwig, "Humans?"

Ludwig chuckled, "No, no, I mean like our relationship… what _are_ we? What's your opinion on the matter?"

The Italian decided this was probably one of the instances where he should apply the advice many people had given him of 'think before you speak'. So he did exactly that, chewing over his answer before he answered. What he _wanted_ to say is that they were more than best friends – or at least he wanted to be more than best friends – but the sensible side of him won the argument, and commanded his mouth to say, "Best friends, of course!"

Thankfully for Feliciano's irrational side, Ludwig didn't drop the matter, "But… think about it. We cook meals for each other, I've seen you naked half a dozen times, we share the same bed more often than not… we've even kissed a few times… and we got each other flowers on Valentine's Day. And everyone says we're pretty much a couple already…"

Sensing that Ludwig's tone was quite morbid and a little depressed, Feliciano suddenly began to worry – perhaps Ludwig really_ did_ think all that stuff was weird? "B-But it's not true, right? I mean if you don't want it to be true then it's not true!"

"What if I want it to be true?" Ludwig asked shamelessly, locking gazes with Feliciano.

Now this was an instance Feliciano hadn't been prepared for. He'd never even _registered _the idea that Ludwig might like him back – let alone make the first move, if that was indeed what he was doing right now. Feliciano decided to give his friend the benefit of the doubt, and just put on a confused expression, "Eh?"

Ludwig took a deep breath, forgetting completely about his important calculations, and turned his entire body to face Feliciano, making sure their gazes were locked beyond unbreakable, "Feliciano… I want to tell you something, but I'm afraid you'll hate me…"

"I'll never hate you." Feliciano answered quickly, both of them knowing what was coming.

Taking another deep breath, the blonde smiled hesitantly, "In that case, Feliciano, my feelings for you are greater than my feelings for any other person I've ever met. You're an amazing person, and I think I can go as far as to say that I'm in love with you. You may be ditzy at times, and you run away an awful lot, but your bad points make you even cuter. Feli, I love you. I don't want to be your best friend – I want to be your boyfriend."

Again, Feliciano was a little shocked at how blunt Ludwig was being with him. He wasn't too sure why, but he'd always pictured _Ludwig_ being the tongue-twisted, blushing and spluttering one if they ever did have a relationship. As odd as it sounded, Feliciano quite fancied himself as a secret King of Dominance, and had often had quite sexy images of Ludwig begging for certain things off him, but hey – he could be submissive if it meant getting to be with Ludwig!

"I-I want you to be my boyfriend too. Ludwig, I really, _really_ like you. You protect me, and even when you're in a scary mood you make me feel so special." Feliciano tackled the German down with a bone-crushing hug, trying o remember every little indent of Ludwig – where the bones stopped, and where skin merged into muscle. The perfect, comforting scent that complimented his personality perfectly and the fluttering of his beating heart – the thing Feliciano had finally been given permission to hold close and call his own.

Ludwig smiled, holding the Italian tight around his torso, "Feliciano, I love you." He repeated down at the boy, who tilted his head up and Ludwig got a very rare glimpse of his beautiful, honey coloured eyes.

Keeping very still, Feliciano never once left Ludwig's almost needy gaze, "I love you too, Ludwig."

The two continued staring at each other almost awkwardly, not entirely sure what to do next. Both Feliciano had fantasised about this several times in their dreams – what they would do when the other came to know of their love, and the many, many possible outcomes that'd all been imagined in their heads. Neither of them knew about the other's plans, of course, and right now all memory of these plans had disintegrated, and both had no idea what they should do, just frozen in each other's eyes.

"We should… move." Ludwig announced, though made no clear indication that the direction he wanted to move was out of the position they were in, "We really… should…"

Watching the German like a hawk, Feliciano eyed his lips hungrily. Perhaps it'd been too soon to jump to conclusions of Ludwig getting to be the dominant one all the time – he was looking more than a little submissive right now after all. His shirt halfway undone due to the heat of the room, a crisp blush burning on his face and his shiny, intimidated eyes that were just _begging_ for mercy. He _needed_ to kiss those strong, defined lips – _right now._

So that is indeed exactly what Feliciano did. He tilted down very, very slowly, like approaching a frightened deer, and chastely pressed his own experienced lips on to Ludwig's own, hesitantly leaning further into the kiss, waiting for a show of approval from the German below him. Luckily for Feliciano, who was begging to get slightly worried he wouldn't have the self control to wait for Ludwig and his rather steady pace, the German looped his strong arms around Feliciano's waist so tightly it felt like he'd never let go. Not that Feliciano wanted him to.

Slowly he deepened the kiss, letting Ludwig get used to the odd experience. Feliciano was a little proud of himself, he thought as he curled his fingers into the blonde locks of Ludwig's hair – this was about the only thing that Feliciano could outdo Ludwig in – the only thing he could show Ludwig what to do, rather than the other way around. Their mouths got more and more co-ordinated, and soon the kiss was no longer chaste, and heading towards the needier, passionate side of the scale. Feliciano was only thirteen, but he knew exactly what he was doing.

Soon the two had separated, cheeks flushed, adrenaline levels high, and raring for more. They paused only to catch their breath and shuffle their position into a more comfortable embrace rather than the odd half lying down, half resting on a chair position they'd managed to end up in before that.

Just as Ludwig was tilting his head up for another kiss, there was tapping on the door, and rather urgent tapping by the sounds of it. The pair hesitated, before Feliciano waved his hands off, telling Ludwig to just ignore the rude person trying to ruin their time together. They leaned down into their second embrace, even more heated than the first. Both were getting quite into it, forgetting completely about the knocking.

That was until Feliciano felt a sharp prod in his side. Squealing in shock and terror at the shock of tickles that ran up his spine, the little Italian fell face-first into Ludwig's chest, looking up at his poker and pouting childishly, not very happy on how he'd been so rudely interrupted.

Said 'poker' was in fact Gilbert, grinning down at his brother and the Italian, with none other than a petrified, stone-still Lovino behind him. Ludwig groaned, this was going to take some explaining to the older Vargas brother… Judging by how silent he was at current moment probably _wasn't_ a good sign.

Ludwig was of course correct.

"Sorry, we let ourselves in – thought you didn't hear us. We defiantly didn't expect _this, _dear brother… Getting your hands over little Feliciano, then? We've all tried it – me, Francis, Antonio… I heard he ever exchanged a kiss or two with Kiku." Gilbert winked, nudging his brother, "But this is the first time I've seen him so serious. You're special, Luddy!"

Not entirely sure what to say, both Feliciano and Ludwig just stared at their brothers, not sure what to say.

That was when the 'bad thing' Ludwig had been anticipating from Lovino had begun.

"We most defiantly did _not_ fucking expect this!" Lovino growled in a low voice. That was bad. That was _very_ bad. Lovino only growled if someone really _had_ crossed a line, "For a start, you can get your fucking potato-infected hands off my fucking brother, you cheeky bastard!"

"Here we go…" Both Gilbert and Ludwig muttered, while Feliciano was panicking slightly, not sure if he should stand up to his brother for Ludwig's pride's sake.

"No, you will _not_ fucking 'here we go' me! I would prefer it if you don't go around feeling my brother up like he's some sort of disposable fuck-toy! You're seducing him!" No one wanted to mention the fact that it was Feliciano who was doing the seducing, "What if it occurred to you that he doesn't _fucking_ want you love! Stop forcing yourself on him!"

Just as Ludwig was going to make a very patient response, explain how he didn't intend on forcing himself onto Feliciano, it was Feliciano himself who stood up, and stole the words right out of his mouth, "And has it ever occurred to you, _Lovino."_ Feliciano frowned, not using his usual nickname, "That maybe Ludwig wasn't forcing himself onto me? Maybe I wanted this to happen? That ever occur to you? So just _leave me be! _I can look after myself!"

No one had expected _that_. Least of all Lovino himself. Everyone was a little speechless, staring at the very out-of-character Feliciano, who was still pouting childishly, arms folded, and standing protectively in front of Ludwig.

Recovering from his initial shell-shock, Lovino quickly composed himself, glaring right back at his brother, "Fine. If that's what you want I'll just sit back and watch as he breaks your heart! I was trying to stop you from making the same mistakes I made, but apparently you know better. Go fuck yourself, Feliciano." And with that, the older Italian had stalked out of the door moodily, slamming it behind him.

Gilbert, Ludwig and Feliciano exchanged weary glances, not sure what to say. "Ehh…" Gilbert started, "Don't worry Feli; I'm sure he'll come around, right?"

Feliciano nodded; still a little shocked he'd stood up to his overprotective brother like he had, slumping back into Ludwig's arms glumly.

"So, what did you need, Gilbert?" Ludwig quickly changed the subject.

"Ah yes! Well, I need a hand, you see… I need you to get a branch of a tree for me, actually." Gilbert seemed to suddenly realise how off his request was.

"Gilbert… why do you want a tree?" Ludwig asked, more than slightly worried.

"Not _a_ tree, per say – but, a leaf or two of it, yes." Gilbert grinned, "I can't explain what's going on, sorry – it's all a big surprise! But you'll all find out soon enough! I'll make sure you will. It'll be broadcast _everywhere_. You'd have to live under a rock not to know once I'm finished!"

Both Ludwig and Feliciano weren't all too sure on what to say to Gilbert's rather hysterical-sounding plans, so just smiled and nodded, clambering up and following him out to his tree.

"You know what he's up to?" Ludwig muttered to Feliciano.

"Nope~!" He replied all too happily, clinging onto Ludwig's arm and pecking him on the cheek, "But I'm fine so long as I'm with you!"

* * *

Meanwhile, Alfred had been staring at Arthur's door for about ten minutes, trying to compose himself to talk to the Brit. This was at about one o'clock in the afternoon – just after Gilbert was running off from Miss Héderváry's room, a new plan to capture Matthew's love implanted in his head, and was off to find Lovino to assist him in his plans.

It just so happened that on the way to start his great plan, he'd passed down past Arthur's room, and found Alfred standing in the corridor like a lump of lead.

"You alright there, Alfred?" Gilbert narrowed his eyes slightly, looking down at the American, "You look slightly troubled."

Alfred nodded, "I am troubled, Gilbert…" The American issued to the door, "I have a big problem."

Gilbert sighed, smiling slightly and sunk down to sit on the floor, "What's up, man?"

Joining him on the floor and placing the clock he was holding next to him, Alfred also sighed, and began to explain, "Arthur's in love with me."

"Really?" The German snorted sarcastically, earning a glare off the American.

"Arthur's in love with me, and I like girls." Alfred sighed, "I don't want to lose him as a friend, I don't love him, and I don't know what to do."

Gilbert raised his eyebrow, "Last I heard, you'd 'finally accepted his love and were kissing in his room and discussing clock metaphors," He gestured down at the wall-clock at the side of Alfred.

"No… well… sort of. I said to him that in time, I will come to love him, and that I'll come to him if he can wait for me." Alfred buried his face in his hands pathetically, "It made sense last night… but right now it just feels… _wrong_… I don't know what I feel. I just can't get my head around it… Half of me wants to just give in, but the other half just wants to run away. I've been trying to see him all morning to talk about it – I came here at nine o'clock in the morning, and I've just been running back and forth and back and forth. The amount of times I've come close to knocking and then running back to my room is unreal… Gilbert I just don't know what to do."

"You're an idiot, you know that?" Gilbert raised an eyebrow. Alfred looked up, an annoyed, hurt expression on his face, and Gilbert began explaining himself, "No, listen – you've already got a solution for this situation. There's not even a _problem _here! You said you needed time to date him, and now you're saying you don't want to date him now. There's no problem – because you can't date him _now, _no, but he's given you time – you're bloody _holding_ it now!" Again Gilbert issued to the clock, "Once you get your head around dating him, it'll all be fine. 100% A-okay. It's exactly like you say – just wait, and it'll work."

Alfred looked up, watching Gilbert, "But I don't have any feelings for him!"

"Again, idiot, if you needed feelings to date someone then this world would be a boring place. People seem to think it's slutty to date someone you hardly know, or have no romantic feelings for – but it's not! The idea of a date is to _make_ someone fall in love with you. There's really nothing to worry about, Alfred."

"But when will I be ready?" The American sighed, "How do I know when to come and fall in love with Arthur?"

Smiling, Gilbert patted Alfred's hand gently, "Think of it like this – when you can imagine going into town and holding hands with him, and not get flustered by the image, or have doubts like 'oh, that's weird/wrong/incorrect or whatever – _then_ you're ready. But Alfred, just by showing that you _want_ to be ready for Arthur proves that you're halfway there. You care about him a lot and the part that wants to be more than friends may _look_ like it's loosing, but really it's soaring into the lead."

There was silence for a moment, and then Alfred looked up, determinedly staring into Gilbert's eyes, "Thank you, Gilbert! I get it now. I think. But you're right. Thank you for showing me what I was doing wrong. Good luck with Mattie, by the way – you two'll be great together whenever you finally get him."

"Thanks, kid – but remember, you're only twelve." Gilbert warned.

"I'm nearly thirteen!" Alfred insisted.

"You don't need to be in such a big rush to fall in love. I remember being in your position when I was your age – in love and confused, but to be honest, it's a waste of time worrying about it. It'll work if it needs to, and when it needs to. Don't get all teary eyed and girly on it, okay?" Gilbert reassured, helping Alfred to his feet, "Besides, if you do need some other advice aside from my awesome words of wisdom, Miss Héderváry is always a good one to do to."

Alfred nodded, and managed to conjure up a little smile on his young face, "'Kay, Gil. Thanks for all of this – you really didn't have to – but I appreciate it."

"I know I didn't have to – but I wanted to." Gilbert replied happily, patting Alfred on the back, "but I've gotta go and attempt to fix up my own romance! If you see Lovino tell him I'm looking for him!"

With that, the albino was off down the corridors, muttering to himself about pancakes with a gleeful expression painted all over his face.

Alfred sighed, wheeling back around to the door. Despite all of Gilbert's useful advice, it hadn't really told him what he should do _now_. Chewing on his lip, Alfred finally decided to rip out a page from a notebook, and neatly wrote out a little note addressed to Arthur, saying 'Thank you for your gift – I'll try and hurry up. Still best friends, yeah?" and signed it with a few little kisses and the tiniest of hearts at the bottom. Blushing furiously, Alfred slipped it under the door, hoping Arthur would notice it later.

For now though, all he could do was think. Sit and think to himself – and just _wait_. Time was a great gift, but it took a long time to take effect. Alfred just wanted his stupid brain to drill the ideas into his head, to make himself accept Arthur's love rather than fearing it.

Only time could help him… Maybe he'd take up Gilbert's suggestion of asking Miss Héderváry for some assistance…

**A/N**

**/sigh… I really don't like this chapter… u.u I'm sorry it's boring, and nothing really happens… and Italy is so OOC… I'll probably get round to re-writing it soon XD hopefully. XD sorry for the little delay between the two – I was really avoiding writing this and idk why ¬.¬" I'm sorry! XD usually I really enjoy writing, but this time it just dragged… sorry D:**

**But also I've looked through some of my past chapters and have seen just how many mistakes are in them o.o" X'D LOADS! But I'll try and correct them whenever I get the time, and probably re-write some of it as well, but nothing major that'll change the storyline ^^ I'll try and remember to put up in the newest what chapters I've altered, so if you want you can go back and look through them :)**

**But yes, compared to the last chapter (my fave chapter so far – and so many, many kind reviews on it too!) I really don't think this one was up to scratch, but I don't have it in me to re-write it XD  
Also, next week I'm off to Northern Ireland (hello there Colin 8D) for a wedding, so of course I won't get chance to update u.u very sorry DX But I'll try and get as much done until then (going Tuesday next week until Sunday) :D **

**Again, thank you so much for your kind, kind reviews! I thank you muchly~  
Love yas! **


	26. A Nightmare of a misunderstanding

**Chapter Twenty Six – a Nightmare of a misunderstanding**

The whole school was in joyous uproar. The following Monday, the Headmasters of both Goverek and Coverack held another joint assembly, informing the students that, as of the beginning of the summer holidays (a joyous beam of light that was only a month away) they would be resigning their positions as head teacher. They made it quite clear that it was only because, in their old age they found teaching a little too stressful – but every single living being in the assembly hall knew very well that the teachers were leaving because not only were they intimidated by their own students and colleagues – they were ashamed of themselves.

"See? I told you!" Miss Héderváry grinned, walking slowly back to her classroom behind Gilbert, who was once again on his own, "So glad they're finally going."

Gilbert grinned, "I know! It's brilliant – by the way, did Alfred have a word with you?"

"Ah, that boy… indeed he did!" she chuckled, "You know, you boys all make a big deal out of nothing! You think it's the end of the world because someone ignored a text, or doesn't want to hug you – you're only just _beginning _to see the world as it really is; you don't have to start worrying about all of this stuff! All of you are very handsome young men, and you'll get a very suitable bride or groom waiting for you on the isle."

"Nah – we're all just mature for our years, miss! Besides, everyone's hormones are wild and we can't help it! But finally Toni said he had a free day, so I'm going to catch up with him – talk to you later, miss!" Gilbert ran off, a sparkle in his eye, waving as he ran.

Miss Héderváry smiled kindly, waving him off and turning down the corridor leading to her classroom where the students from her form were all trekking back to happily. The day had been written off for teaching, as most of the teachers had to prepare for interviews on becoming the next heads. As Miss Héderváry was quite happy staying a humble technology teacher, she'd called her form class back to the classroom to have a 'chat' with them.

Once all of her beloved little students were seated, she stood at the front of the class, a familiar little smile plastered onto her face. The class half-heartedly watched her, absorbed in their own conversations but still keeping an ear out for other's conversations, in case they heard anything interesting. Oh how nostalgic it was to be a teenager, Miss Héderváry smiled to herself.

"Right class! As the head has just informed you, he's leaving his post – isn't that great?" She grinned, loving the reactions she got – some whole-heartedly agreed – the more honest of her bunch, like Feliciano, Owain and Alfred, while others watched her with a suspicious look, trying to work out if she was using failed sarcasm – that was Ludwig, Alastair and Arthur. A few looked completely poker-faced like Kiku, but hey, she could never get an expression out of him.

"Well, at least _some_ of you agree with me. Now opinions about our past heads behind us, the teachers have come to an agreement that seeing as you were all offended by Mr Alden's terrible attitude, _you_ get a say on who the new head will be. Of course, you won't have the final say, but we _will_ take your opinions into account. So, within the next week, I'd like you all to tell me which teacher you'd like to see as the next head by whatever means you feel happiest; by note, whisper it to me – you can even Facebook me! Just as long as you all say who you want to run your school."

There was an outbreak of muttering at this – the pupils discussing who they'd like to see in the headmaster's office. There were a lot of mentions of Mr. Belischmidt, Mr. Vargas and now and then even mutterings of Miss Héderváry herself – that did make her blush! Though the job really wasn't for her…

"Now! We don't have to decide now, so don't fret too much – you can discuss it afterwards, okay?" Miss Héderváry clapped her hands, making sure she was the centre of everyone's attention again, "That's not the only news I have for you all… I figured that since you are my little nest of chicks – the kids I've brought up since year seven (with the exception of Alfred, of course) that you should know that I am…" She paused a moment, heart fluttering, "I am engaged to Mr. Edelstein!"

The class stared blankly at her for a moment, not entirely sure what she was saying – before the meaning of her words sunk into their thick skulls, and they all jumped up at the same time, mixed expressions of congratulations, joy and shock on each of their faces.

"Really? Congratulations!"

"Engaged! I didn't even know you were _dating!"_

"How could you not know they're dating! They're practically undressing each other with their eyes whenever they pass in the corridors!"

"When's the wedding! Can we all come!"

"Will there be pasta?"

Each student had their own personal reaction, and of course some were more pleased than others about the news as, although Miss Héderváry was quite old, she was a flower in a stench of teenagers, and it wasn't like she wasn't attractive – she'd been the victim of many crushes over the years, not just Gilbert's.

"Now, now, calm down!" She chuckled, "I have no idea when the wedding will be, if that's what you want to know – we're both pretty strapped for cash at the moment, and the rescission isn't helping. But yes, whenever we have the wedding, you will all be invited – isn't that nice? And, yes, Feliciano there will be pasta."

At the Italian's whoop of bliss, Miss Héderváry sat herself down on her desk chair, smiling to herself – her work here was done, "Just one last thing to tell you!" The class settled a moment to listen, "This isn't really an announcement, more advice from me. Now y'know that saying girls and boys have? Like chicks before dicks, and bros before hoes? Apply that to your situation, kay? Try thinking of bros before dicks, if that makes sense? And remember – I'm always here for help if you need it." She made sure to lock gazes with Arthur, Alfred, Owain and Matthew in turn, "Remember, no matter how lonely you are – you're not alone, you just have to reach out your hand for help."

A few of the students looked at each other in confinement, not entirely sure what their crazy teacher was on about, but the ones who the message was meant for (Arthur and Alfred and co.) all looked down at the floor, knowing guilt in their eyes. Each of them had thought about turning to a teacher for advice, but all had chickened out at the last moment, worried the teachers would judge them, or think of them as strange.

Arthur was particularly troubled at the present moment. He'd given Alfred the clock yesterday, pretty pleased with his symbolic metaphors, and hoped Alfred would work it out. He'd cancelled the plans he had with Owain to clean up the music room so he could stay home. He wasn't expecting Alfred… of course not! And he most _defiantly_ not wasn't anticipating his arrival, and wasn't in the slightest bit disappointed when he didn't even get a glimpse of the beautiful blue eyes, or the silky dirty blonde hair.

He knew Alfred hadn't deserted him _completely _– after all, Arthur had received the tiny, neatly printed little note (and his heart skipped a beat when he noticed the tiny little hearts and kisses) and was satisfied that Alfred still wanted to be friends. It did hurt though, to be friends and only friends while he could do whatever he wished. Arthur was tied around Alfred's little finger – Alfred could kiss him whenever he felt like him, and run and hide whenever he wished to.

Hang on.

Alfred was _playing_ with him, Arthur realised with a jolt. Maybe it wasn't _intentional_, but it was playing all the same. Whenever Alfred felt 'in the mood', or rather flirtatious, he could turn to Arthur, knowing full well that he would surrender to Alfred's lips and give him back whatever he felt like at the time – but whenever Alfred came to face the consequences of his actions, he just ran away, hiding behind the excuse of time, knowing Arthur had no choice but to forgive him.

Well, that little bastard! Arthur thought angrily.

Of course, it _wasn't_ like that really – Arthur had simply jumped to angry conclusions. Alfred, although may have appeared to be 'playing' with Arthur was simply trying to give his best friend what he really wanted. Alfred _did_ enjoy the kisses, admitted, but he always, always, _always_ felt guilty right after giving them to Arthur, hoping that his friend wouldn't expect more for the time being. He simply wanted to help Arthur's waiting – to make it as painless as possible, but little did he know he was doing the complete opposite.

Arthur however was not in the mood for tracking through the situation logically. A little part of him knew that Alfred would never _really_ use him like his brain was telling he was. But Arthur was feeling sorry for himself – he wanted someone to notice his bleeding heart, and he wanted to somehow get revenge on Alfred. The question was, of course, _how?_

Before Arthur had any more time to consider the matter, the bell had been rung; signalling students that they could return back to their dorms for the remaining period of the day. Everyone trooped out, all wishing Miss Héderváry congratulations on the way out, discussing how they should spend the rest of the day.

Arthur followed behind Kiku, Ludwig and Feliciano, the three he'd been spending most time with as of recent – though Kiku mainly. Said Japanese boy was being even quieter than usual, however, and it was worrying Arthur, especially the rather melancholic expression plastered all over his pale face.

"Kiku? Are you okay? You seem to be spacing out a little bit…" Arthur worried, lightly resting a hand on the boy's shoulder. Kiku straightened up, flinching at the touch and apologetically smiling at his new friend.

"Hai, I am fine, thank you for your concern, Arthur-san." Kiku bowed his head a little, avoiding Arthur's piercing gaze.

"Seriously, Kiku, you're a terrible actor. I can tell something's wrong – you're acting exactly like me! Head in the clouds, complaining and frowning all the time! You don't want to turn into someone as stupid and love-struck as _me_ do you?" Arthur chuckled, attempting to cheer Kiku up.

The attempt kind of worked, as Kiku's lips did turn up a little at Arthur's words, "Arthur-san, you're a lot better than you make out, you know. You are a wonderful person. But you are right – I'm a terrible actor, aren't I? You're right, I'm not okay…" He sighed, dropping his gaze to the floor, "I think Heracles and I may have broken up last night…"

Arthur blinked a few times, very surprised, "What? You're kidding? You and Heracles are bloody perfect together – he's so sweet! What happened between the two of you?"

"I agree with you when you say Heracles is very sweet… It's just he is an awful lot older than me, and his mind is on… other things. I have only just wrapped my head around physical contact in public – and the idea of… well _kissing_ still makes my insides squirm a little. But… now he wants _more_ than that – I told him I wasn't ready – that I didn't want to ruin our relationship… but now I fear that he may have taken my rejection in the wrong way. He was really upset whenever I said I didn't want to – I think he thinks that I don't have any feelings for him if we don't do this. Of course that's not true! But… Oh I don't know…" Kiku sighed, giving up.

Awkwardly, Arthur attempted to comfort Kiku by patting his back, "Ah… I see… That must be a little hard to take… but don't worry Kiku – you're not in the wrong with this! Neither of you are; you can hardly blame Heracles for wanting more than just kissing, after all he's almost four years older than you, but you also can't dive into stuff you don't want to do, right? It's just a misunderstanding, I'm sure it'll sort it's self out, okay?"

Kiku nodded, smiling, "Thank you, Arthur-san – I appreciate your advice."

The two continued in their small-talk on their way back to the dorm, avoiding the subject of Heracles as both knew it was a sensitive one. Both Alfred and Heracles managed to stay out of the subject of their conversations almost all the way back until they reached the dorm. 'Almost' being the operative word.

Just as the two turned down the corridor to their room, they were greeted with a pair of people they never thought they'd see. Kiku practically keeled over upon seeing just who was blocking their path.

Before them were the towering structures of two year elevens – these two precise upperclassmen being Heracles and none other than Sadik Adnan, a Turkish boy who was famed for his odd behaviour and not-so-healthy rivalry over Heracles. Rumour had it that both Sadik and Heracles had been fighting over Kiku, but Kiku had felt very intimidated by Sadik and had accepted Heracles' date over Sadik's, and ever since then Sadik hated Heracles even more than he had before – and that was something no one thought possible.

But the position they were in now most defiantly did not look like one of hatred. On the contrary, it was an embrace they were entwined in – their lips connected in a very heated, rather intimidating and mature kiss – biting at each other's lips and pretty much snarling through their teeth. _Sadik and Heracles kissing._ What was the world _coming_ to?

"H-Heracles…?" Kiku questioned, shaking slightly as he very bravely looked up to try and meet Heracles' eyes.

"Kiku." Heracles parted from Sadik, nodding in greeting, "You know Sadik, don't you?"

Kiku didn't attempt to reply and just stared at Heracles, completely speechless. Arthur decided Kiku needed someone to do the talking for him, "You bastard! What _are_ you – a fucking _whore!_ You broke up with Kiku, what, last _night_ and now you're off kissing someone else! Unless this is some twisted Greek tradition, I suggest you get your act together!" Arthur snarled.

"Puny kid. You don't even know what a whore _is_. You're what, ten? Go grow up and then we'll talk to you." Sadik spat, looking down at Arthur's rather puny structure.

Arthur decided it was a lost case to try and shout over to Sadik that he was in fact thirteen, and settled for a dirty glare at the pre-adult. Arthur wasn't stupid – he knew year eights would be pulverised if they started a fight with a year eleven, but still it didn't stop him wanting to scream at the two of them. Luckily he managed to hold his tongue.

"Arthur-san, don't worry – let us just get back to the dorm. Quickly, if we can, please." Kiku still sounded a little breathless, and was staring at the floor, studying the gaps in between the patterned tiles, "Please." He repeated again, pulling on Arthur's blazer sleeve.

"Okay then, Honda, you just _run away_, that's fine, isn't it? You're not the one with a broken heart! You may be a young, stupid, runt of a kid, but you sure know how to crush hearts! I hope you're pleased with yourself – so why don't you go off and break Kirkland's heart, now? Then maybe that Jones kid? What about one of the Vargas'? You're a slut and you _enjoy _it." Sadik spat at the pair of them as they managed to wrestle their way past the two.

"And since when did you care about Heracles, Adnan? Last time I checked you were on the phone to your parents for some explosives to try and blow him up!" Arthur growled, though it was in vain as Sadik just laughed nastily, really not caring if Arthur was insulting him.

"Arthur-san. _Please_." Kiku pulled a little harder this time, and Arthur finally spun around, quite happily running along with Kiku and slamming the door behind them once they were safely inside their dorm. Sighing with relief, Arthur sank to the floor, growling and muttering about if he were taller he's have pounded both Sadik and Heracles into the ground.

Kiku quickly went about making a cup of green tea for the two of them – Arthur had become quite fond of the oriental tea since rooming with Kiku – and hurriedly took a seat at the _kotatsu _his parents had kindly shipped in for his last birthday, "I-I'm sorry for being so impolite with you before, Arthur-san, it's just I found the whole situation somewhat… overwhelming…"

Arthur took a seat under the odd floor-table thing, smiling reassuringly, "Not at all, Kiku – your behaviour was quite normal, I believe. It's only natural to react like that."

There was silence for a moment, the two of them just sipping their tea, before Kiku hastily whispered, "Do you think what Sadik-san said was true…? Am I really… _like that?"_

"Kiku Honda! You are _nothing_ like that – you're kind, and sweet, and you never intended to break wither of their hearts – Sadik should get over being rejected by you, and Heracles should just stop being such a hormone-crazed idiot and realise that because you rejected him _like that_ it doesn't mean you don't love him. _They're_ the ones in the wrong, Kiku – not you."

"Are you sure?"

"As sure as sure can be, Kiku." Arthur replied, sounding very sure, "And I think we could perhaps use this to our advantage… Both of us are somewhat annoyed by the ones that have stolen our heart, and do you not agree that they both need to be taught a lesson?"

Kiku hesitated for a moment, "W-well I agree that showing them what they've done is wrong would be beneficial – but I wouldn't want to do anything to hurt them."

Shaking his head, Arthur smiled deviously, "Not hurt them, per say. Rather… show them how much they really love us, and how we can get them back."

Pausing to chew over the meaning of Arthur's diplomatically rephrased words, Kiku smiled, nodding, "I see what you are saying – how do you suppose we do take revenge then, Arthur-san?"

Arthur smiled, holding his hand out to Kiku, "How would you fancy coming out on a date with me this afternoon, Kiku?"

Knowing just where the Brit was heading with the situation, Kiku smiled equally confidently, and took Arthur's hand, "That would please me very much, Arthur-san. Thank you for being so kind."

"It's my pleasure." Arthur smiled. Now was their chance to finally get revenge on Heracles and Alfred and their stupid, lusty actions. Good job both Arthur and Kiku knew how to make people jealous.

* * *

Alfred felt like a complete idiot.

He'd agreed to spend the rest of the day with Matthew, Carlos and Jett watching movies. Matthew had warned him that the certificates for the films were older than their ages really were – but Alfred had thought that he meant sort of blowing up, violent, swearing and sexy-lady type films. Not _horror_ films!

But still, he was an idiot, because whenever the titles began rolling and Alfred had realised that the genre was very much in the horror area, he still sat there, trying to prove to himself that he could sit through a scary movie without screaming.

It was indeed a very scary movie, and Alfred _had_ managed to sit through it and a number of other, evil, gory ghost-movies without screaming. But it was the after-effects he was now concerned about. He couldn't sit _still!_ Everything was setting him edge, even Matthew's little pattering about in the kitchen. There was the occasional bang or two when he shut a cupboard or dropped something, and Alfred was very sure that he was beginning to feeling his sweat seep _through_ his shirt. As disgusting as it sounded, Alfred had no choice but to sit and sweat, as whenever he'd tried to have a shower, he suddenly remembered about how one of the protagonists of the many movies had very nearly been killed in their shower – Alfred would learn from their mistakes, and was not going to step a foot closer than necessary to a bathroom if he could help it.

The movies had taken up a great proportion of the afternoon, and it was now nearing nine o'clock ish. It was still light outside, and knowing that Matthew was still there to protect him in case any ghosts were to attack him in the night set Alfred's mind at least a little at ease. He decided that if he was going to get to sleep, now would be the most likely time, so he slipped into the bathroom, and very swiftly changed, and remembered to keep the door unlocked for a quick escape and never let his eyes leave the shower, just in case something were to attack him, and bid goodnight to Matthew.

Alfred actually did manage to get some sleep, to Matthew's surprise, and an awful lot quicker than he thought it'd take too. Within five minutes of the American laying down his head on the pillow, he was out like a light and off, floating in the dream (or most probably nightmare) world.

Alfred's slumber didn't last him all the way through the night, however. In the middle of the night, at just past two in the morning, the American woke with a muffled scream into his pillow, the memory of his terrible nightmare still burning in his mind's eye. Taking a deep breath, Alfred tried to calm himself down, convincing himself that the nightmare was indeed only a nightmare. However, his mind was not at ease, and insisted on feeling terrified – the scenes of the horror movie replaying in his mind over and over again. Alfred swirled around in his covers, limbs getting tangled, and loosing all sense of what way was left and what was right – where was up and where was down.

He needed to hug someone – to get them to tell him it'd be okay! Alfred jumped out of bed, grabbing the torch he always kept by his side in case of un-expected ghost attacks like this one. Forgetting completely about the fact Matthew was in the same room as him, Alfred headed out of the room, watching behind him in case any ghost was stalking him, and headed right for Arthur's room. Arthur would understand – he'd tell Alfred to stop being silly, and hold his hand, making him feel peaceful and happy again.

It was then Alfred realised – he wanted Arthur. Not Arthur's comforting aura or his kind words – just _Arthur_ full stop. Remembering what Gilbert had said about imagining the hand-holding scene, Alfred did exactly that. He closed his eyes tight, forgetting about his ghost issues and the fact he was in a random corridor in his pyjamas, and imagined what it would be like to hold Arthur's hand – to be connected and happy together, not caring what others thought. He was expecting the little squirm of discomfort in his stomach to come, but it didn't. Rather, butterflies, and quite pleasant butterflies replaced the usual knot-like twist.

Did that mean that he was ready?  
Alfred paused, thinking deeply. He wanted Arthur right now – he wanted the Brit's arms around his own, and their lips connected. He wanted Arthur to love him. So surely that would mean…

… He was in love with Arthur?

Well, maybe not _in love_ but defiantly had feelings for. That would make sense…

Grinning, Alfred was pleased with how easy it had been to figure out – he could finally get his heart and his brain to work in unison! Arthur's gift of time had been used well – and now he was ready to give something back!

Suddenly remembering about the pursuit of ghosts that were meant to be stalking him, Alfred squeaked, fumbling with his torch and quickly made his way to Arthur's room. He reached under the potted plant just outside the door, knowing full-well that Arthur kept a spare key there 'for emergencies'. Well, this was an emergency, and sure enough the key was there. Alfred clicked the lock open, creeping inside, and over to Arthur's bedside.

"Arthur! Arthur! Ghosts!" Alfred whispered harshly, not wanting to wake Kiku up, "Arthur – please, I've realised something – I need to talk to you!"

There was no waking the Brit, Alfred decided, so sighing; he decided that it'd be best to wait for Arthur to wake up. There was no way he'd be able to walk all the way back to the dorms after _this_ – it was just too scary! For all he knew, the ghosts could be waiting outside the door for him to come out, and _then_ they'd attack him. It was a trap!

He had no choice but to sleep back in his old room. Alfred smiled at the nostalgic room, and pulled back the blankets to climb into bed beside Arthur – it'd be a nice surprise, wouldn't it? Arthur would wake up, and Alfred could finally accept him – they would hug and kiss, and pretend to be ill, and take a day off from school. That would be nice… right?

It was a good plan, but it was all shattered whenever Alfred was about to climb under the covers.

There, taking Alfred's spot was none other than a little Japanese boy, curled up, and clinging to Arthur's pyjama sleeve, deep in a sleep.

Why the _hell_ was Kiku in Arthur's bed?

Alfred tried to calm himself down; there was probably a reasonable explanation. Surely there'd be a reasonable explanation? He didn't have time to think – all thoughts of ghosts now replaced with thoughts of betrayal and confusion, Alfred quickly ran out of the room, heart stuck in his throat, and sprinted down the corridors until he was back at his own door. His didn't stop running until he was safely under his covers.

Who cared about fictional nightmares? This one was _real_. Alfred sighed – would it _ever_ run smoothly?

**A/N**

**No, Alfred, it will _never_ run smoothly X'D**

**Hello everyone ^^ I hope this chapter was a little better than the last one ^^" the last one really did kinda suck XD but do not worry, everyone! Arthur and Alfred will be together… eventually XD 'eventually' being the operative word, no?**

**Thank you if you plan on/have reviewed ^^ it's much appreciated! I love you all :')**

**Oh, and I'm sorry that they're acting out of age ^^" when I started this I really didn't have a plan going, and I didn't really intend for a bunch of thirteen year olds to do all this stuff XD but I've had an idea to fix it! But you'll have to wait a while for it ^^" It will get more realistic :D  
Thank you once again, lovelies!**

**There might be a chapter tomorrow, but if not then I'm very sorry but you'll have to wait until next Monday ^^"  
Byebye! If I don't update until I get home, then I hope you have a pleasant week ^^  
**


	27. Desire or Generosity?

**Chapter twenty seven – Desire or Generosity?**

"Oi Colin."

"Aye?"

"Is it me, or does dear little brother look pissed off with Jones and vice versa?" Shane was sitting at the back of their maths classroom, a clear view of everything that went on in the class as his and Colin's seats were slightly raised. His observation was very correct, as both Alfred and Arthur kept on glancing up from their algebra to glare at the other – they were just missing each other's gazes though, as they were looking up at different moments, so each were unknowing of the dirty glares they were receiving off the other.

Colin paused for a moment, grinning as he witnessed exactly what Shane had, "I would say that is correct, twin. But the question is more _why_ are they so pissed off?"

Chewing on his pen, Shane stared off into space, thinking hard about his answer, before he was interrupted by the booming voice of Mr. Belischmidt at the front of the class.

"I would expect, Shane, that if you were to put a little more effort into think about your maths results rather than affairs between your classmates then you wouldn't be failing in maths at moment! Do your work, and you can talk as much as you wish about Arthur and Alfred's failing relationship later!" Belischmidt barked, earning giggles off the students, and evil, _very_ annoyed, red-eared glares from both Alfred and Arthur.

Pouting his bottom lip in a sulky way, Shane frowned and muttered an apology to Mr. Belischmidt and returning to his algebra problems. Mr. Belischmidt was one of those teachers that could tell what was going on with students with a single glance – 'Sherlock Holmes' German cousin' everyone had taken to referring to him with, and could shut someone up with just a turn of an eye.

Shane's silence didn't last though, as a second later, Colin found a piece of paper being showed in the way of his equals sign. Sighing, the older brother rolled his eyes, reading the note Shane had shoved under his nose, and praying that Mr. Belischmidt and his psychic powers wouldn't discover their note-exchanging.

'_I reckon Honda's involved.'_ The note read – Colin looked up at Shane in confusion, and his twin simply nodded towards the Japanese boy.

Kiku was the only obstacle in-between Arthur and Alfred with their deathly gazes. Colin noticed that every time Arthur took his turn to sneakily glower at Alfred, Kiku also looked up with a very guilty, very worried expression burdening his face. The Irish twin also noted that whenever Kiku and Arthur's hands brushed together now and then, neither jumped away like would be expected from the socially-awkward pair – and often when their gazes did meet, they shared a slight, knowing smile.

'_Defiantly involved_,' Colin wrote back, and then paused to add, '_but what does Jones have to do with everything?'_

Shane pondered for a moment, glancing at Alfred before writing, '_Jealous of Honda and Artie?'_

Swiftly reading the note, and hastily hiding it under his book when Mr. Belischmidt looked up from his desk, Colin scribbled down _'possible, we can't rule it out. But there are loads of explanations, no? What if Honda fancies Jones and __Artie's __jealous?_

Gasping at what he read, and swiftly avoiding Mr. Belischmidt's death-ray of a stare, Shane nodded hurriedly at his brother, noting that it could be an equally plausible explanation. Soon the two had decorated the sheet of paper with possibilities and theories of their brother's anger, and simply couldn't decide which one was the right one.

"You know, Colin, Shane – I really am getting tired of telling you two that I don't appreciate note-passing in my class." Mr. Belischmidt's stony voice made the two freeze, and the whole class turn around with sadistic grins on their faces as they watched the two get in deep, "And you'd think after me repeating it so many times to you both, as individuals and as a duo trouble-making act, you'd begin to listen to me. Perhaps a more suitable punishment it in order for the two of you – would you like me to have a word with Coach Braginski?"

"Sorry, sir." The two chorused the _very_ familiar words in unison, hanging their heads to hide their giggles.

"Yes, yes, it's all very funny, isn't it – but on results day when you find out you've failed terribly in maths I'm not sure you'll be laughing then! Now if you don't finish these algebra questions I'll have both of you in a two hour detention!" Belischmidt paused, and then added, "And if you're _that_ curious about your brother's private life, rather than guessing you should simply _ask_ him!"

All attention was now turned to Arthur, who glared back at Shane and Colin, mouthing '_thank you'_ back at them – the sarcasm could still be detected in his tone even without saying the words. With a prompt few glares from Mr. Belischmidt, soon the class was back working, in complete silence.

Shane and Colin exchanged sneaky glances, both knowing full well what they would be occupying their time with upon being freed from the stuffy math's class.

* * *

"I'm telling you both straight – _there is nothing __**to**__tell you! _And even if there was, I can assure you I wouldn't be reporting it to you pair of idiots! Now I'd appreciate it if you let me past to get to my Religious Education class, please!" Arthur sighed helplessly.

"Not until you tell us–"

"—what's been going on with Kiku and Alfred!" One of the twins begun and the other ended (Arthur couldn't tell for his life who was who, other than the odd time where he could hear Colin's slightly lighter accent in the mix – but that wasn't very often) Both twins were blocking the corridor down to the RE classroom, and it wasn't just Arthur they were holding up. Everyone from their maths class was now heading to the same classroom for their RE lesson, and Colin and Shane had caused quite an impressive backlog of people all frustrated and trying to push past the twins.

"For God's sake, Arthur, just tell them what's going on!" Someone called.

"If I get a detention because of you, I'll make sure you hear about it, Eyebrows!" Someone else joined in.

Sighing yet again, Arthur growled in frustration, "Fine! Fine! Shane, Colin, I'll tell you in RE what's going on – Mr. Vargas is always in a doze, anyhow. Now will you let me past, please!"

Exchanging a look of triumph, Shane and Colin held out their hands, shaking their brother's, "Thank you very much for your exchange – we'll hold you to your side of the bargain, dear brother! Now hurry along – nice doing business with you!" One of the twins said – judging by the southern accent, most probably Shane.

The crowds of people all pushed past the twins once their human-barricade had been removed, all glaring dirtily at the pair of them as they passed. The pair nodded at each other, muttering the Harry Potter quote '_mischief managed'_ under their breaths – they took Fred and George to be an inspiration to society, and in their opinion the Weasley twins should be classed as Gods, and everyone should be forced to worship them. End of story – no discussions needed.

RE whizzed past, and halfway through lesson the twins were sitting at the back of the class, very dissatisfied that Arthur had double-crossed them and not given them the information. Well they'd have to do something about _that_ they decided.

"Arthur Kirkland – you get over here and tell us what the hell is going on!" Colin demanded, waltzing over to Arthur's desk – no one really noticed, as they were all busy packing creating chaos and drawing things on the hung over, sleeping Mr. Vargas.

Their brother frowned, obviously pinning his hopes on the fact they might've forgotten, "Why do you want to know so badly? It's not like I asked you what happened with Emily last year!" He directed the accusation at the twin he thought to be Shane (last year he'd asked Emily out and flatly been rejected) "And Colin, I never mention that one Christmas party were you got a little bit too drunk and had a little… issue with Antonio, do I?" Colin flared up at the memory of the very hazy mistake of a night. He hadn't _done_ anything with Antonio, per say, but the two had defiantly been acting a little too friendly for Lovino's liking.

"Aww, come on Artie! You know we have connections – and Francis would be more than happy to give us a photocopy of one of the many embarrassing photos he's collected of you… You wouldn't want them to leek, now, would you? Especially not with my blog now with one million hits!" Shane winked, not letting the opportunity to brag about his rather popular blog, "All we want is a little information!"

Growling, Arthur decided that he probably _shouldn't _challenge Shane on that one as if the Irish boy so wished, the whole internet would soon be sniggering at Arthur's terribly embarrassing pictures – Shane had his readers wrapped around his little finger, and using that power he'd now cornered Arthur in the same way.

"Fine! Fine – I'll tell you. Now sit down and shut up." Arthur glared at the pair, making sure that Alfred and Kiku were safely out of hearing distance – luckily Francis was telling them both a rather animated, descriptive story about how he'd lost his virginity. "So… I was pissed the other day – the annoyed pissed, not the alcohol pissed, you idiots – more specifically I was pissed with Alfred for playing with my feelings. I figured that he was taking advantage of me – using me, if you will. It seemed Kiku was having a dilemma of his own at the time – I'm sure you know about him and Heracles breaking up. So we both decided that because Alfred and Heracles were being such atrocious dicks we should teach them a lesson."

"And that lesson would be?" Colin raised his bushy, Kirkland-esque eyebrow.

"Shut it, idiot – I was just getting to that part. We want to show them just how much they really love us; we want them to beg for us back. And how else can one accomplish that task unless by making the revenge-ees jealous? So Kiku and I came to a conclusion… and now…" Arthur paused, taking a deep breath, "We're dating."

Exchanging knowing grins, the twins patted Arthur on the back over-confidently, "Ah little Artie, you're finally growing up! Learning about the cruel, selfish ways this materialistic world works – heartbreaking isn't it, dear Shane?" Presumably it was Colin who was talking, making melodramatic sweeps of his hands and pretending to wipe away none-existent tears with equally none-existent tissues.

"But, be warned, dear brother," Shane joined in, placing an arm around Arthur, "Don't get too wound up on that revenge business – it never really works, and usually only ends up hurting everyone involved. You might think that it's only Alfred and Heracles getting hurt, but in truth many could be affected; you and Kiku for example, Sadik, perhaps even Matthew, Feliciano and Owain."

Narrowing his eyes, Arthur raised an eyebrow in question, "How on earth could Matthew, Feliciano and Owain get involved?"

"You never know!" Both twins answered in unison, grinning knowingly.

"Oh be quiet, the both of you. I know what I'm doing!" Arthur sneered, folding his arms stubbornly.

"Fine, fine, we won't try and advise you of our past mistakes then! Because you know best! But don't come crying to us whenever it all fails – we wash our hands of these deeds. We are innocent of Alfred's blood." Colin slightly modified the famous quote from the Bible, grinning, "Good luck."

There was silence for a moment, and then Arthur muttered, "But for some reason, since yesterday, Alfred's been pretty annoyed with me…"

Looking at him with expressions of pitying confusion, the twins sighed, "Isn't that what you _wanted_ him to feel?"

"No! Well, yes, I don't know. But I haven't told anyone about Kiku and I yet – so how could he _know?_ Well, he probably doesn't; he's probably annoyed at me for something else, but for the life of me, I can't think what." Arthur sighed, sounding troubled.

"You know Artie, you're a real idiot. One minute you want to be swept up into Alfred's arms, the next you want to swoop him into your arms – and the next you want him to lick your shoes while you sweep Kiku up into your arms. You make no sense." One of the twins grinned, "But this is where we leave you, young one. You shall have to find your own path." Shane tried to mimic your typical Christ-like, Gandalf, Dumbledore-like figure from a typical book. He failed miserably at the attempt.

Arthur rolled his eyes, muttering a sarcastic thank you under his breath before swiftly exiting the class when the bell rang. _Finally_, he thought to himself, _I can go back to the music room and not be bothered by anyone._

Of course, the moment he thought that, the whole room was pursuing his attention. Well, that was a little exaggeration – Three people called his name.

"Arthur!" Came the voices of Alfred, Kiku and Gilbert all simultaneously. Both Alfred and Kiku caught his shoulder, pulling him back from exiting the classroom, while Gilbert blocked his path forward. As planned as the pursuing had seemed, apparently all three of the boys were working alone, as they all looked pretty annoyed when they saw that the other two were also trying to capture the Brit's attention.

"I need a word with Arthur." Alfred said, a protective tone in his voice, pulling Arthur a little closer to him, and then said in a lower tone to Arthur, "C'mon Arthur, I just need a word or two with you – I won't be a minute."

Gilbert frowned at this, "Hey, Alfred, I need his help, thank you very much. If you wouldn't mind, I called his name first, so I have dibs on him!"

Just as Alfred was about to argue back that actually they all called Arthur's name at the same time, Kiku interrupted, "Actually, I think you will both find that I have priority over Arthur-san, isn't that correct?" Kiku brought his head up, letting his big brown eyes meet with Arthur's. Swallowing roughly, Arthur looked between all three of them. He knew that _really_ he should follow Kiku, but the curiosity of what Alfred would want to say to him was killing him. As for Gilbert, well he didn't really come into the equation.

"Okay then, Kiku," Alfred didn't sound like the normal, perky sounding American – his tone was hard and sarcastic, not at all like his usual self, "Why do you have priority over Arthur, hmm? I'd be fascinated to know." There was something about Alfred's question that sounded challenging – like he already knew the answer, but wanted Kiku to say it.

Pausing, Kiku narrowed his eyes, and seemed willing to take up the challenge, "B-because… because…" He took a deep breath, looking up from the floor and meeting Alfred's ice blue orbs, "Because Arthur-san and I are dating!" At that, everyone who was yet to leave the classroom looked up, hungry for gossip, (Mr. Vargas included) and a universal gasp was ushered as Kiku lent up on his tip-toes, and very carefully placed a chaste kiss on Arthur's lips.

Of course that was the very moment that Heracles walked past the class, peering in through the open door to see what the commotion was about. Upon seeing Arthur and his ex-boyfriend showing a display of public affection, his eyes narrowed, "Kiku Honda – you're a fucking hypocrite!" And with that, the Greek boy was off down the corridor, swearing to himself.

Gilbert was finding the whole situation rather amusing, and was giggling to himself in his odd, 'kesese' of a laugh – Francis and Antonio were also grinning like idiots, and Francis had even took it upon himself to take pictures. ("More _brilliant_ blackmail martial, _non?" _he'd asked Antonio) It seemed the only one who wasn't very amused by the situation was Alfred.

"Oh what-the-fuck-ever, Kiku. You two're dating just to get revenge! There's no feeling behind your relationship!" Alfred growled, narrowing his eyes, and taking a daring step closer.

Coolly, Kiku swept away from the blushing Arthur, keeping his expression a perfect poker-face, "Well, Alfred-san, I hate to be frank, but I think Arthur and I had more than you did – after all, was it not you that wasted your chance to date him? Was it not you who claimed you were straight over and over again? Was it not you who used him, toyed with him – made him cry? _You're_ the one at fault here, and you wasted your chance with him. Yes, maybe our relationship began on a basis of revenge, but who's to say it'll stay that way? Feelings can develop during a relationship, you know."

Alfred narrowed his eyes dangerously, "Oh of course they can develop in a relationship where both participants are free to give away their hearts – but I have something you _don't_ have; Arthur's heart. And, as corny as it sounds, you will never have it, as I'm planning on protecting it with everything I can! So you can go and make up with your boyfriend, and stop getting Arthur involved!"

And with that, Arthur felt himself being yanked out of Kiku's grasp, and into the vice-like hold of Alfred. Before he knew it, Arthur was staring deep into the blue pits of his sapphire eyes, and he felt Alfred's soft, almost familiar lips press down onto his own. Cheeks burning with embarrassment, Arthur had no choice but to simply go limp. He didn't know what was going on, or why it was happening, and he had no intention of thinking about it. He just wanted to go back to his dorm room, and cry and eat ice cream, and not think about the embarrassment of having to face the class after them seeing both scenes between Kiku and Alfred, and he _certainly_ didn't want to think about either the American boy or the Japanese boy.

Of course, his thoughts and preferences had no impact on the situation, and it seemed that no one was planning on letting him retire to the room. Once Alfred finally pulled away, Arthur could very hear all the amused twitters and swoons of his classmates, and even Mr. Vargas, who'd perked up an awful lot in the last ten minutes.

Kiku was glaring at Alfred, and made to pull Arthur back to his side, but Alfred was too strong for his little muscles, and Arthur remained in the American's arms.

"Arthur-san… I know this is what you want with Alfred-san, but… can you leave me like this? I thought you promised me that date on the weekend…" Kiku seemed genuinely upset by the sudden turn of events, his brown eyes looking quite watery, "I don't want to force you into a relationship you don't want to be in… but I don't want to let you go. I know I entered this deal to make Heracles jealous, but if I'm honest, I no longer want to be with Heracles."

"Artie?" Alfred was _not_ letting Kiku win this one, "I thought this is what you wanted between us? You said you'd give me time; that you'd wait for me, right? Please… I'm ready now! Don't tell me I'm too _late!"_

Confused and upset, Arthur's head flipped between both Alfred and Kiku, not knowing which to comfort first. His eyes as large as a deer's in headlamps, and limbs feeling as weak as a newborn giraffe's, Arthur decided that the safest option was to just not respond. He sent apologetic glances at both Alfred and Kiku before pushing past Gilbert, escaping through the door, and running walking as quickly as he could back to his dorm – he didn't feel stable enough to run.

His flee wasn't quick enough, however, as he heard the voice of either Shane or Colin following him down the corridor – a sing-song, almost jeering tone, "We told you, Artie! But you have to fix this! But what're you going to give into first – your heart and lusting desires, or your guilt and conscience? Are you going to choose Alfred or Kiku?"

"I don't fucking know!" Arthur yelled down the corridor to whoever had spoken, and ran off down the corridor. Well at least he was telling the truth – he simply _didn't know._

**A/N**

**Awww! Poor, poor Artie! ;A; and sorry, I didn't really intend for Kiku to come off looking like the evil love-interest ;A; poor kid! We all love him really, right?**

**Well, I hate to tell ya, but that's all you're getting for a week, pretty much XD yes! A week – I am very sorry to leave it on such a blunt, question mark ending, but I need to pack really badly (¬.¬ oops. I left it late XD) But whenever I get back, I promise for the chapter to be posted! Unless I find a laptop over in Ireland that I can type on XD but don't bank on it ^^  
Ahh those twins! I wanted to make them more major characters, but they just haven't been needed in the past chapters. At least they're pretty useful here ^^**

**So yes! Reviews are love! I really hope you choose to review if possible :) they're confidence building, and genuinely make me smile :D thank you very much if you've reviewed in the past!**

**Ciao!**


	28. Forgiveness

**Chapter twenty eight – Forgiveness?**

Gilbert was chuckling to himself as he wondered down the corridors to Arthur's room. Man that little Brit had made things hard for himself. As per usual, Gilbert had taken it upon his awesome self to sort things out. This would be simple – and while he was there, he could also talk Arthur into the little favour he was planning on asking the Brit before he'd been burdened by his foreign sweethearts.

"Oi, Artie. Open the door, or I'll bash it down, and you _know_ I'm not exaggerating." Gilbert called through the shut, locked and probably barricaded door. Arthur had hurt himself _pretty_ deep for him to go into such a dramatic sulk. "Arthur. I'm not kidding – I'll kick the door down in ten… nine… eight…"

Gilbert immediately knew the counting had worked, as sure enough there was a sheepish, sniffle-y, "Piss off, wanker" from behind the door. The German chuckled, leaning against the wood and taking a deep, troubled sigh.

"Arthur, listen to me, okay? I know what I'm on about – I've done this an awful lot. So you made a mistake? So you've managed to corrupt Kiku and upset Alfred? Who the fuck _cares_, Arthur? All you need to do is get over yourself, and don't give a fuck what people think about you. You're a strong lad, right? Are you, a mighty Kirkland – a family _almost_ as awesome as the Belischmidts themselves – going to fall down at such a tiny obstacle?" Knowing exactly what he was doing, Gilbert listened to the silence from behind the door, hoping that it meant Arthur was mulling over his words as oppose to completely ignoring them.

Sure enough, Gilbert found that his rather risky tactic of taunting the moody blonde had actually _worked_, as a few seconds later there was a click of locks (and, if Gilberts' ears weren't lying, the distinctive noise of furniture being dragged away) was audible from through the wood, and the door swung open, revealing a very moody, red eyed Arthur.

"C'mon, little man. Take a walk with awesome me, and we'll do some jobs, yeah?" Gilbert smiled strangely comfortingly, gently placing an arm around Arthur's shoulder as they began to walk into the corridors, "Whaddya say about coming on a little scavenger hunt with me?"

Not really caring what was happening, Arthur simply nodded, keeping up with Gilbert's quick pace. It'd been quite a while since Arthur had run off to his room, and the corridors had cleared, the students all making their way to the canteen (or in most cases their own kitchens) as it was nearing six o'clock.

Suddenly, Arthur remembered something, "Gilbert, you were calling me before, weren't you? Before all that crap happened with Alfred and Kiku? You needed my attention – what was it you wanted?"

Gilbert tried not to wince at how hoarse the poor Brit's throat sounded, "This is exactly what I was going to ask you! You see, I've got a little… plan on my hands concerning Matthew, but I need connections to help me with it. Seeing as you're my connection with Professor Wang in the Science lab, I was wondering if you could get me a little cube of potassium. Only a tiny amount – you remember that lesson near the start of term where I made purple fireworks with the stuff? I want to do that."

Raising an eyebrow, Arthur just shrugged off Gilbert's strange request, "Sure thing. Is there anything else I can help with?"

"Actually, there is!" Gilbert suddenly realised, "could you ask Feliciano for 'that £40 bouquet of rose flowers Gilbert bought last month' please? He'll know what I mean."

Arthur was too tired and frustrated to argue with Gilbert, so he simply nodded, "Sure thing. But where're you going then?"

Grinning, Gilbert span on his feet, "To finish my plan! It needs to be done ASAP, you see? But thank you, Artie! Can you drop 'em off at my room when you're done? I'm back with Francis – we temporarily made up." He chuckled, about to run off before Arthur's voice called him back.

"Oi! You can't run off! You said you'd bloody help me! This doesn't look like helping to me!"

Gilbert shrugged, "I have helped you, haven't I?"

Spluttering, The Brit barely stopped himself from swearing loudly at the cocky albino "And how have you helped me? Let me guess, by 'honouring me with your awesome time'?"

"Well, there's that, of course, but ask yourself this," Gilbert grinned, "Are you still crying?"

This time, Arthur couldn't control the swearing as he realised that the German was, of course, right. He had cheered Arthur up, even if it was a little bit. Slightly tongue-twisted and unsure what to say, Arthur just turned curtly, marching towards the science lab; "You owe me for this Belischmidt!"

* * *

Meanwhile, Alfred had taken to sulking in his room just as Arthur had. Luckily Matthew had disappeared, leaving him to his own thoughts and free access to the TV with Matthew's impressive film collection. Sadly, Alfred found that films weren't a big enough distraction from his uneasy mind and plagued thoughts.

What didn't aid his restlessness was the urgent knocking at his door. The person, whoever it was, had been out there for about five minutes there, knocking in a repetitive, and now annoyingly predictable pattern. Knock, knock, knock, and a pause, then knock, knock, knock again. Alfred had been trying his best to ignore it, but, unless he was imagining it, it was getting louder and louder by the second, and it really _was_ getting on his nerves.

"Go _away!_ I don't want to talk to _anyone. A – N – Y – O – N – E."_ He spelt out the words, gritting his teeth and hastily punching the pause button on the flimsy remote, hoping like hell that he hadn't broken it when there was an omnibus 'crack' from the plastic.

The knocking continued, regardless of Alfred's dismissive words. Sighing, the American filled his lungs up with a fresh load of breath, ready to repeat his previous statement, just a little louder and with the addition of swear words, before the knocker interrupted him.

"Alfred-san, I need a word with you, if it wouldn't bother you too much." Alfred could tell _exactly_ who the speaker was, even without the aid of the '-sans' and distinctive Japanese accent. Of course, Alfred growled to himself, it would be _him_ wanting to speak to him, because there's no way _Arthur _would show his face.

Not wanting to look like a coward, with another frustrated growl, Alfred yanked open his dormitory door, and sure enough, looking up at him was the petite structure of Kiku, "Yes? Sorry, I'm incredibly busy at the minute, Kiku." Alfred spat, not giving a damn about manners.

Hanging his head slightly, Kiku sighed, "I-I wanted to apologise."

"What?" Alfred almost toppled over in surprise – he knew Kiku was polite, but _fucking hell! _Alfred didn't really want to admit it, but if he was completely honest, he knew he was the one that should be apologizing to Kiku. After all, it was _Kiku_ who was dating Arthur at the present time, not Alfred. And as Kiku had claimed, he _did_ kind of have priority over Arthur. And Alfred _had_ been the one to kiss Arthur, completely ignoring Kiku's feelings.

Alfred felt like a bit of an asshole after thinking of it like _that._

Kiku must've taken Alfred's silence in a negative way, as the overly-polite Japanese boy began trying to explain himself, getting very flustered along the way, "I-I knowingly began dating Arthur-san to get at Heracles-san, and didn't want to think about how the situation would affect you. It was unacceptable behaviour, and it is as you say – _you_ are the one who possesses Arthur-san's heart; not myself. I have no right to be in a relationship with him. But…" Kiku broke off quickly, covering his mouth, "Sorry, that came out wrong. I have nothing more to add… I just hope you can forgive my terrible behaviour and manors, and you can accept my apology."

Blinking a few times, Alfred stared at Kiku wide-eyes, "Kiku, you're too nice for your own good." Alfred sighed, holding out his hand, "Look, I was the one in the wrong – Arthur's _your_ boyfriend, and I did waste my chance with him. _Of course_ you wanted to get back at Heracles! He broke your heart, right? It's perfectly okay to be annoyed at me if you want to be, and for that, I apologize, but I forgive you for the stuff you've just said then."

Grasping his hand gently, and shaking it with a very formal air, Kiku smiled slightly, "Thank you, Alfred-san. I forgive you for what you've done, although, as you say, I can understand your reasoning."

There was an awkward, unfinished air hanging around the two as if there was something more to be said, but neither knew what. Just staring at each other unsurely, both Alfred and Kiku started to get a little warm at their collars, not sure what was going to happen next.

Then, Alfred suddenly recalled Kiku's odd unfinished sentence before, "Hey, Kiku – what were you going to say before? You were talking about how your behaviour was 'unacceptable' (which it wasn't) and then you finished with a 'but', though you never continued… you just sort of… _stopped_. What were you going to say?"

Eyes winding and smile fading, Kiku shook his head repeatedly, insisting that it really didn't matter, and that he was only getting his thoughts and speech mixed up, "R-really, Alfred-san…" Kiku continued, "I-it was nothing… though thank you for your concern."

"Kiku, for god's sake – you _never_ show emotion! This must be really bothering you but I've been in your position with things like this – it _helps_ when you tell someone! You may think that they're just going to laugh at you and shit, but it never _really_ happens like that. People will lift you up when you fall down, but only if you ask for their hand to hold, d'ya get me?" Alfred sighed, a little exasperated.

Blinking a few times, Kiku chuckled to himself, "You know, Alfred-san, I hope you don't take offence to this, but that was unusually insightful of you!"

"See? Everyone thinks I'm dumb, but I'm not! I just keep my philosophy to myself!" Alfred winked, and then returned to his serious voice, "But seriously, what was bothering you?"

"It would be unnecessary bother to get you involved as well, Alfred-san. Please, I am quite good at dealing with my own feelings – I know what I am doing." Kiku smiled.

Alfred sighed, a little exasperated, "Well, I'm not going to pressure you into telling me, okay? But remember, you can only help someone if they ask for your help, so don't go thinking that no one cares about you, yeah? You're a great guy, Kiku, and I feel terrible about what happened with me and you over… Arthur…"

A slightly cocky, almost confident smile mustered up on Kiku's pale face, "Well, Alfred-san, you haven't won him yet. Arthur-san is an equally amazing person as you claim I am, and naturally we both want to have him in our grasp. So, I will end our conversation with an opening to a little conversation – 'Game on', as you Americans would say, no?"

Chuckling, Alfred grinned, slapping Kiku on the back in a sporting fashion, "The game sure as hell is on, buddy! May the most worthy candidate win!"

With that, Kiku left swiftly, letting Alfred return to his room. Little did either know, both of them once rid of the other curled up in their rooms, and cried a little bit – just a little bit. Neither really knew _why_ they were crying, but both knew that the tears were very, very necessary, and that they felt very sad. God only knows why.

* * *

"L-Lovino?"

"Not – talking! Go – the – fuck – away!"

"Please, Lovi, let me in! I need to talk to you!"

"For fuck's sake! Get the _message!_ I – do – not – want – to – talk – to – you – so – leave – me – alone! That clear enough for you, you idiot!"

A new voice joined in at this point, "Hey Lovi! Who're you swearing at if it's not me?" Antonio said, skipping though from the kitchen, taking a seat next to Lovino on the bed. This _was_ a turn up for the books – ever since Antonio and Lovino had had their little 'bonding' moment weeks before, they hadn't broken up _once_. They'd more than doubled their previous record of time spent between their arguments (it had been a week, but they'd boosted it up to three!) and for once, Antonio grinned to himself, _he_ wasn't the object of Lovino's cruel words.

Jerking a finger towards the door, Lovino growled, lightly moving his other hand towards Antonio's as subtly as possible, "My stupid brother is begging for forgiveness."

As if confirming this, Feliciano called through the wood again, "Come on, Lovi! Let me in!"

"No! For god's sake, Feliciano! Get the _message _and leave me alone!" Lovino growled at the door, quickly returning to Antonio, "But yeah. He's begging for forgiveness, and won't bugger off. If you love me you'll get rid of him for me."

Antonio chuckled at Lovino's words. He'd recently taking to using stuff like that an adorable little 'love me, daddy' sort-of approach. The sneaky Italian had recently discovered that this was a very effective move to pull on Antonio, who everyone knew couldn't resist Lovino's uke, helpless and adorable side (which was shown very rarely.) Also, both of them had realised that this was Lovino's way of silently saying 'I love you, do you love me too?' without the entire fluster behind it. It was rare Lovino reminded Antonio of their love for each other with simply three words, but Antonio appreciated it all the same.

"Come on now, Lovi! Stop being so mean to your brother!" Antonio sneakily avoided the question, "C'mon, let's let him in and we can share the tomatoes I have in the kitchen?"

"You have tomatoes!" Lovino was momentarily distracted by his favourite fruit.

"Only for those who're nice to their siblings!" Antonio tapped the Italian on his nose like an adult might to a child. Pouting, Lovino curtly turned his back, but made sure to edge his fingers a little closer to Antonio's, trying his very best to hint that he would like it very much if their hands were connected.

Oblivious to Lovino's hints, Antonio grinned, leaning in closer to Lovino, "N'aww, c'mon sweetie~ I was just kidding! I'll give you all the tomatoes you want, because you're my sweet little Italian tomato!"

Lovino was about to start clucking and shouting about Antonio's nickname of 'sweetie' before Feliciano smoothly interrupted him through the door, "You twooooo~!" He moaned, "Don't _forget _about me! Lovino let me _iiiin!"_

Glaring at the door, Lovino shouted back at his brother, "There's a reason we're trying to forget about you, now go and piss off and snog your boyfriend!"

"Feliciano's dating! Who!" Antonio demanded, grinning, "That's adorable!"

"That potato bastard of course, who _else_ would it be!" Lovino growled, showing his obvious displeasure in Ludwig and Feliciano's relationship.

Antonio tilted his head adorably, "Ah of course! But why're you so annoyed at Feli in the _first _place? What did he do to you? I can't imagine _Feli_ doing something to upset you…"

"That's what I'm trying to find out, too, Toni! I upset Lovi in some way, but I don't know what I did…" Feliciano was probably hanging his head, curl flopping in disappointment from outside the door, and then called again to his brother, "Loviiii! Please tell me what I did! I hate arguing with you, Lovi!"

Narrowing his eyes, Antonio gave Lovino a knowing look, "Lovi… don't tell me this is what I _think_ it's about?"

"M-Maybe…"

"Lovino! That's so childish!" Antonio scolded, but giggled and ended up tickling Lovino at his sides, earning girly squeals and begs for mercy from the Italian beneath him.

There was a frustrated sigh from behind the door, "Please! You two, I wanna know what I've done wrong!" Feliciano sounded oddly annoyed.

"Sorry, Feli!" Antonio giggled, "Well, y'know Lovi hates Ludwig? Well _everyone_ knew that – but yeah, he's obviously upset about the two of you dating, but do you know _why_ he hates Ludwig so very much?"

"Antonio shut _up!"_ Lovino growled, but only half-heartedly.

"It's 'cause when they were kids, Ludwig accidentally stood in one of Lovino's crate of tomatoes!" Antonio grinned. If it was anyone other than Feliciano he was talking to, who understood his brother's odd love for the fruit, the obvious question of '_who the holy hell has a _crate_ of tomatoes'_ would be asked.

Blushing furiously, Lovino attempted to rescue his pathetic-sounding excuse, "It wasn't just that! He laughed at me when I started crying!"

"Yeah, because he thought you were joking!" Antonio giggled.

"B-But! They were a present from my dad! They were the best Christmas present _ever_, and they were the ripest, juiciest tomatoes _ever_." Lovino declared, "And he _stood_ on them."

There was silence for a moment, and then Feliciano called from outside the door, "And that's why you hate Ludwig?"

"More or less…"

"_That's_ why you don't like me hanging around with him, and swear at him every time you see him?"

"Well…"

"And _that's_ why you want to ruin what _I_ really want?"

"I wouldn't say _that_, Feliciano!" Antonio stepped in at this point, sensing the conversation was getting a little dangerous.

"Lovino – you're so stupid!" Feliciano called followed with the sound of footsteps, and then silence.

Exchanging worried glances, Lovino and Antonio quickly ran out to the door, to see that Feliciano had ran off from his spot, now nowhere to be seen. Sighing, and not exactly sure what he'd done wrong, Lovino shoved his forehead into Antonio's strong chest, welcoming the embrace the Spaniard offered him.

Smiling down at his, Antonio pecked his forehead, "Don't worry, _mi amor~ _you and your brother will make up, right? You love each other, and if there is love then there's always forgiveness."

"You taught me that…" Lovino muttered, leaning up, lips lightly parted, eyes closed and balancing his tiptoes. Antonio smiled. Lovino really was opening up to him recently – yes, he was still the emotionally-stiff, blushing Lovino, but Antonio felt that he was being allowed to see Lovino's golden, gooey, sweet-as-honey personality that was hidden by his hard shell.

"I think I did quite a good job, if I do say so myself." Antonio chuckled, and granted Lovino's wish, gently gluing their lips together, and trying to forget about every terrible thing that was going on around them, and to their friends.

**A/N**

**I'm back! :D **

**So yeah, I got back last night, but didn't get around to writing this X'D I hope it was up to scratch DX sorry for the wait! This is a bit of a filler chapter, but we have Spamano to cheer us up, so it's all good, no? (IhopesoXD)**

**Next chapter should be up soon, and I shamelessly add that, over my mini-holiday, I have been granted with some inspiration! I know writers aren't meant to include their personal events/thoughts/personalities in their stories, (what's a biography for, after all? XD) but I've just had so many ideas after going to that wedding! Q_Q I CANNOT WAIT TO WRITE THEM! X'D  
So I'd say we have between five and ten chapters left people! Never know, if I write quick enough, I might conclude this by the end of the week! **

**Though probably not XD  
Thank you for reviews etc. :') love you guys!  
Tatty bye~**


	29. Who's birthday was it?

**Chapter twenty nine – Who's birthday was it?**

"Potassium? Now, Arthur, what on _earth_ would you want potassium for?" Professor Wang raised an eyebrow, turning away from stacking his overflowing shelves. The Professor had been clearing up a rather messy experiment he'd just finished (which involved Coach Braginski…) before Arthur had come waltzing in, begging for the element. The Chinese man couldn't think for a moment why someone like _Arthur _would want potassium, though.

"Please, Professor… I'm… Ehh… concerned about my health." Arthur pleaded that the pathetic excuse would let him free of the interrogation off the teacher.

Professor Wang raised an eyebrow at that, very curious, "You know you can't just _eat_ potassium – that'd probably be very dangerous, Arthur. It needs to be treated and things first!"

Arthur nodded hurriedly, "Yes, yes I know that! Please Professor, you've seen me in your science classes! I know what I'm doing!"

"Well… I suppose so… just as long as you use it responsibly." Professor Wang wasn't stupid – he knew it'd be impossible for a year eight student make potassium consumable. That would take highly experienced knowledge and high-tech equipment. But for the life of him, the Professor simply couldn't work out what on earth the boy might need _potassium_ for. But, as he had said, he trusted Arthur not to do anything stupid, "It's in that cupboard over there – take as much as you need."

"Thank you, Professor!" Arthur's face brightened up immediately as he ran over to the cupboard, grinning. Sure enough, once he routed through the mess of science-related substances, he came across a tiny bag full of little cubes of potassium. Pocketing quite a few of them (he really had no idea how much Gilbert might need) he skipped back over to the professor, thanking him over and over again.

The Professor shook his head, smiling happily, "It's no problem, Arthur. I'm always happy to help a student in need, okay? If you need anything else, just ask." With that, Professor Wang flipped out a pair of glasses from his white lab-coat, placing them on his nose as he shuffled through a few papers, finding the few he needed, and piling them up together, "Why don't you walk down with me? I'm heading down to the staff dormitories – it'll be nice to have a little company, no?"

Arthur smiled, nodding. He always enjoyed the company of Professor Wang. Not in a creepy, teacher's pet kind of way, he just found the Professor extremely interesting. He always had such amazing theories about the universe that he often liked to share with the class – like his own personal view of science. Most students (Alfred included) just yawned, and would later complain about how he was just waiting their time. Arthur however was constantly fascinated by Professor Wang's own views, and tried his best to remember as much as possible.

Sadly, though, it seemed Professor Wang had other things he wanted to talk about.

"So I heard you're dating Kiku then, Arthur?" He chuckled, always happy to talk about gossip with students. He was almost as bad as Miss Héderváry for that!

Stumbling over his words, a raw blush covered Arthur's face, "W-what! Where on _earth_ did you hear that, Professor? I hardly think it's professional to gossip with your students!"

Wang shrugged, grinning boyishly, "Who cares? There's no head teacher here to fire me, so I'm safe! And surely even _you_ must get a little rebellious, Arthur! So out with it! Are you dating my nephew or not?"

"What! Your _nephew?_ You're related to Kiku?"

"But of course! I'm his uncle! You didn't know?" Wang blinked a few times, confused, "I thought everyone knew _that_. Seemingly not! So yes, what attracts you to him?"

"I-I don't want to answer that!" Arthur spluttered, blushing further, "P-Professor… I really don't feel comfortable…!"

Wang rolled his eyes, "Arthur, you need to loosen up, sometimes! Come and have a stir fry with me next time I'm making one – you never know, it might just make you smile a bit! I'm not planning on prying, but you and Kiku had better sort out your social problems soon – yes I know about your argument! The whole _school _knows, Arthur – because I don't want it interrupting your studies! Now off with you!" Wang grinned, patting Arthur in the way of the student's dorms, "Good luck!"

And with that, Professor Wang left the rather shell-shocked, utterly confused Arthur in the hallway, and waltzed off in the direction of his own cosy, familiar-smelling room.

There was something blocking his path though. A little confused, Professor Wang cautiously approached the odd lump in the middle of the corridor, and saw that it wasn't a something – it was a some_one_. That someone in particular being none other than his adorable little nephew, Kiku Honda, sitting right in the middle of the hallway, crying his eyes out.

"Kiku? Kiku what's wrong?" The Professor panicked, and was quickly on his knees beside the shaking Kiku, not sure if he should just pat the boy comfortingly or give him a good old uncle-style man hug.

Kiku, however didn't seem able to answer. The boy just shook his head, trying to scramble away from the Professor, but not getting very far in the attempt, "Y-Yao-san, please! I'm fine; I just need to be left alone…" Kiku insisted, letting his watery brown eyes meet the same eyes he'd inherited from Professor Wang.

"Now, now, Kiku, I know you and I aren't on the best of terms, but I'm _worried_ about you! People don't just burst into tears in the middle of a hallway, now, do they?" The Professor sighed, pulling Kiku into a hug, "If you don't want anyone to worry, then don't _make_ us worry, Kiku… we all care about you! And if any of your friends saw you like this, then they'd be acting just like I am. Please tell me what's upset you?"

Once hearing his uncle's words, Kiku just gazed at the Professor, and his sobs got deeper, and sounding more and more unbearable by the second. Cursing to himself, Professor Wang realised that he really _had_ said the wrong thing at the wrong time. There was nothing else to be done.

"Come on, Kiku. I know exactly what you need." And, with that, the Professor hoisted Kiku up on to his back, letting Kiku grasp around his neck in the piggy-back position he was suddenly being carried in. Trying not to worry about the salty tears that were getting on his precious lab coat, Professor Wang quickly made his way to the place where he'd seen the one person that he knew would cheer Kiku up.

Probably.

Sighing and crossing his fingers, Professor Wang begged that Kiku would give his amazing idea a chance. Luckily, Kiku didn't seem to be paying attention on where they were going, which was at least a start. Wang knew that Kiku most defiantly would not like the plan to begin with, and would probably run away when he realised who exactly was involved with the plan.

Even so, he made it to the dorm room of the involved person, and knocked twice. He heard the sound of footsteps, and soon enough, the very person Professor Wang needed to see was in the doorway.

"Professor! What're you doing here at this hour? And… why're you carrying _him_ on your back…?"

Kiku froze at the voice, lifting his head up from the safe little nest he'd made at the back of Wang's coat. There in front of him, safely inside his own dorm was the very person he did _not_ want to see, and by the look on the other person's face, they didn't really want to see Kiku either. Of course, there in the doorway was none other than Heracles.

"Now, now, you two, I know what you're thinking – 'I really, really don't want to see this guy right now' – add in swear words where you will, I know what you youth are like these days. But hear me out, yeah? You two were happy, weren't you?"

There was silence, Heracles and Kiku locked gazes, and the Greek boy made a sincere nod, never once breaking eye contact with Kiku, "Yes. I was happy with him."

Kiku sighed internally – he couldn't back out now, "As was I."

"Then why can't you two just make up?" The Professor begged, finally releasing Kiku from his back, now convinced the boy wouldn't run away.

Another silence, before Heracles was the braver one again, "Because he's a hypocrite."

Kiku couldn't really argue with that…

"I know. And for that reason, Heracles-san, I am sorry… I just don't know why you'd move on so quickly… and to Sadik of all people…" Kiku sighed, finally finding it to be the right time to talk with his ex about the heated aftermath of their break up.

Heracles sighed, turning to Professor Wang, "Professor, if it's no trouble, Kiku and I would like some privacy."

The Professor who'd just twigged things were getting awkward couldn't be happier to take the opportunity to leave, "Yes, I think that would be for the better!" He laughed a little awkwardly, attempting to break the tension, "Tell me how it goes, Kiku! Good luck to the both of you! And no fist-fights or angry sex!"

At that, the Professor left, chuckling to himself at Kiku's brighter than red face, and Heracles' amused, almost ironic grin.

"Come in and sit down. I'll make you some green tea – I have a load left from when we were an item." Heracles was even more monotonous than usual. Kiku sighed, taking his usual seat, and cooing at the little black cat Heracles kept. The Greek boy was never very expressive in his words, but usually he sounded tired. Now he just sounded bored and cold, and that was creeping Kiku out.

Soon, Heracles returned with two little cups of the odd tea, and the two sat in silence, sipping it for a moment before anyone spoke. Again, it was Heracles to take the first step.

"You found me with Sadik because I was angry. Both of us had been rejected by you – both of us were somewhat heartbroken. I swear, if you'd passed us five minutes before, you'd have heard us arguing over you (again…) we're just stupid, hormonal teenagers – you'll understand soon enough – and well, with guys like us, when in doubt, act sexually I guess." Heracles sighed, looking down at the floor, "I was scared, shocked and embarrassed when you found me, so I just pretended to be smooth – it's what you have to do to survive in the world; if you let people know your true feelings, you'll get pulverised. But, in that situation, I was wrong, and I'm sorry. I hope you can forgive me, Kiku, because I miss you more than I miss the air of Greece and the hot summers back at home."

Kiku knew that if he was being compared to Heracles' beloved homeland, then Heracles must _really_ be missing him. "Heracles, there's something you need to understand – whenever I rejected your invitation for… ehh…"

"Sex?"

Nodding hurriedly, Kiku coughed and continued, "That, well… I wasn't rejecting _you_…" He mumbled for a second, not sure how to phrase his words, "A-and… well… Just because I rejected your body… It doesn't mean I rejected your heart." It was as clear as day that Kiku had been taking lessons from Francis.

"So… That break up… it wasn't really a break up?" Heracles narrowed his eyebrows, a little confused.

Kiku nodded sheepishly.

"You mean to say I never had to kiss that Sadik bastard?" Heracles suddenly realised, eyes widening and sounding an awful lot more emotional than he had done for a while.

Kiku nodded again, looking like he was about to either laugh or cry, but couldn't decide which one.

"Well fuck." Heracles decided, going back to his usual level of emotion.

There was yet another silence.

Sighing, Heracles lifted up his cat, petting it lightly, "But why _Kirkland?"_

Shaking his head, Kiku buried his face in his hands, "I was jealous… so was Arthur-san… I can't make excuses and blame it on him – but if I'm honest, I really didn't know what I was doing… it just seemed like a good idea at the time, Heracles… I'm really sorry… We both felt cold, and bitter and heartbroken, and we wanted to hurt those who hurt us… you see?" Kiku shook his head, "But it's like Sadik said – all I'm good at is using and corrupting people, and I feel terrible about it. Not only did I hurt you and Sadik, but I've hurt Arthur _and_ Alfred… It's terrible what I've done."

Not sure what to say Heracles just stayed silent, and let Kiku cry it out. After all, it was rare for the Japanese boy to speak his mind, but everyone needs to let it out _somehow_. Kiku chose to bottle it all up until it exploded. And it was explosion time.

"I thought that I'd be able to get over you, and that Arthur-san would make things better. In a way, he did… _technically_ we're still dating. Nothing really happened between us apart from that one kiss I gave him, but I thought it'd last a little longer than _this. _Ever since I started dating you Heracles-san (and I'm not accusing you of anything, so pardon me if I sound rude) I've felt like an outsider in my group of friends. Perhaps it was because Feliciano and Ludwig are dating, and I am nothing but a third wheel around them, or that I don't really understand Matthew and Alfred. I don't _get _it… but both you and Arthur-san have been the ones to really connect to me, and for that I am so grateful. I just feel so lonely, do you understand? I don't have a _best friend_, or even a real boyfriend anymore, and it hurts, Heracles… why does it hurt so much?"

That little question positively broke the Greek teenager's heart. Sighing, Heracles pulled Kiku into a bone-crushing hug, and just let the boy continue, rocking him slightly and rubbing his back ever-so-gently.

"I was going to talk to Arthur-san – I decided that it'd be good to let him know that he and Alfred-san were the ones for each other. But, then I actually _saw_ Arthur-san… and he looked so _happy_. I know it's selfish to feel jealousy and pain at other's happiness, but I just wanted to burst into tears when I saw such a happy look on Arthur-san's face, despite everything that was going on. While I was sitting there, crying my eyes out, he was _laughing…_ and it felt so, _so_ unfair… Call me selfish, I know. But… Heracles-san, I'm just so confused. Please, please can you tell me why I'm so different? Why no one understands me?"

Pausing for a moment, gently leaning out of their embrace so he could look Kiku in the eye, Heracles spoke softly, "Kiku, listen to me. You are an amazing person, but because you rarely show off your amazing personality and just cloak it in a trench-coat of manners and formalities, no one really _knows_ you. I'm being honest, now, okay? Arthur had no feelings for you, and he probably never will, yes? Now, it seems that you were finally feeling satisfied by being _truly_ accepted by one of your age. Yes there's Feliciano and Ludwig, but as you say, they're an item, and with them you feel like you're intruding. If you just show people what you're _really_ like then I have no doubts they'll begin to adore you. I know I did."

Kiku gave Heracles a wobbly smile, trying to sniff away his tears, "I'm sorry for acting like this. It's terrible of me."

"Don't' worry so much, sweetie…" Heracles whispered, hugging Kiku once again, "I guess this means we're back together?"

Silence.

Oh _God __why_ was there a silence? Heracles begged up to the heavens.

"Heracles-san." Kiku addressed the Greek boy all-too-formally, "Since our little break, I've been doing some thinking…"

"You're breaking up with me? Like not the other breaking-up rejection thing? Like a _real_ break up this time?" Heracles' eyes widened, unsure how to react.

Kiku stuttered in his wording, "Well no… well… actually I don't really know. Take it how you will, but… I think… because of our age difference, and our age difference only… I don't think I can date you. You said it yourself – we look for different things in a relationship… perhaps, when I'm ready for such intercourse you desire, we can be together once again. But, for now…" He shook his head, "It would be unfair to make you wait for me."

"No, no! I'll wait! Kiku, I don't want to break up with you – no, not again!" Heracles' tone had once again gained a little emotion as he begged at his ex. This _couldn't_ be happening to him…

"Please, Heracles-san, I need you to understand… I can't love you. Not just yet. At the moment, I love a part of you – your personality. But I'm not ready to embrace your body. I am simply too young." Kiku got to his feet, begging his knees not to give way, "I'm sorry."

"Kiku! Wait, _please!"_ Heracles begged, scrambling to his feet and attempting to reach the door before the Japanese boy. Unluckily for Heracles, Kiku had seen him coming, and had already darted for the door, and was racing down the corridor.

Staring after him, heart in his throat, Heracles tried to re-play everything that had just happened over in his mind. Surely he was dreaming…

Surely.

* * *

"Gilbert! Gilbert, I got the potassium! For god's sake, open the door you idiot!"

"Shut up and get in here, then!"

Gilbert yanked open his door, checked the corridor to see if anyone else was around, and yanked Arthur inside the room with such force that the Brit almost fell straight into the wall just opposite the door. Glaring at the German, Arthur brushed himself down, and invited himself into the main room, gingerly sitting down on an arm of a chair, trying not to touch anything that could have French germs. Apparently Francis was out 'visiting' Owain, thought, so luckily for Arthur he'd be able to avoid the frog.

"Sorry… I'm just avoiding Matthew." Gilbert shook his head, "It's not as easy as you'd think it'd be! He's been trying to talk to me all day!"

Arthur raised an eyebrow, "Why on earth are you avoiding Matthew? I thought you'd lap up his attention."

"Well, yeah, usually I would, but hell! It's the 30th June, man! I need to avoid him!" Gilbert said, assuming that Arthur would know _why _that would mean the German was avoiding poor Matthew.

Raising a bushy eyebrow, Arthur began rooting for the potassium in his pockets, "Gilbert, just because it's the end of June that doesn't really tell me why you're avoiding Matthew."

Gilbert gave a frustrated sigh, "What day is it tomorrow?"

"July 1st." Arthur still had no idea where Gilbert was going with the conversation.

Throwing his hands out, Gilbert sighed, "And what day is that? Any special occasions on that day?"

Arthur racked his brains, shaking his head, "It's Kaoru's birthday?" The only reason Arthur knew the kid's birthday was because Peter had kicked up a huge fuss about his birthday party classing with their family holiday (which was a huge flop) last year.

"For God's sake! You'd think I'd have given you enough clues! It's also Matthew's birthday, idiot! I'm avoiding him because I'm getting together his birthday present, but I want it to be a huge surprise! I've even been collaborating with Alfred!" Gilbert lost his frustration, and replaced it with a huge grin, muttering how awesome he was.

Before Arthur had a chance to reply, Gilbert's statement was confirmed, as none other than Alfred himself walked through from the kitchen, a load of Canadian-flag themed wrapping paper in his arms. Luckily for Arthur, Alfred was too involved in his work to notice the Brit standing in the corner of the room, feeling somewhat lost.

"Hey, Gil, what did you say I needed to wrap next?" Alfred asked with a grin on his face.

Gilbert pointed over to an oddly familiar scarf lying on one of the beds, "If it's no problem, then you can wrap that! Thanks so much for this, bro, I'm just so busy! I've gotta try and get my hands on a gigantic novelty bottle of maple syrup. I'm not kidding you, man, it's like _this_ big!" The German threw his arms apart as wide as far as they could go, signalling that the bottle really _was_ huge.

"W-well, Gilbert I'm just going to leave this here and go, okay?" Arthur muttered, finally finding all the little bits of potassium he'd stuffed into his pocket, and hastily heading for the door, staring at the floor and making an obvious point that he didn't want to make eye-contact with Alfred.

Alfred never _had_ been good at getting signals though, had he?

"Arthur! Wait. Can I have a word with you?" Alfred pulled Arthur back by the shoulder, both of them ignoring Gilbert's 'kesese'-ing, "I need to talk with you. I think you know about what."

"Well, you guys, I'm off!" Gilbert winked, "'Parentally if I get to the store soon enough then my brother'll give me discount! Wouldn't want to waist money, now, would I? Enjoy yourselves!"

And the German was gone, giggling all the way out of the door.

Sighing, Arthur turned to face Alfred, finally meeting the blue eyes of the American's. It had been just as Arthur had feared – they weren't full of joy like they usually were; they looked like broken mirrors, reflecting the sky. It made Arthur want to stare right back down at the floor, but he'd be brave!

"Tell me, Arthur, the other day… why were you sharing a bed with Kiku? I know the two of you're now going out… but you didn't do that _already_, did you?" Alfred said, his tone sounding painfully begging.

Shaking his head, Arthur found that his confidence had gone, and, like a coward, he stared right back down at his shoes, "No. Of course not – I don't want anything like that, and neither does Kiku. We were just watching a film and Kiku happened to fall asleep on my bed. I didn't want to wake him, so I figured we'd just share a bed. I'm sorry you thought that, thought, why _were_ you in my bedroom?"

Blinking a few times, Alfred blushed, realising how stalker-ish he'd just sounded, "No! I wasn't there, like, watching you sleep or anything! I just… had a nightmare…" He admitted sheepishly, "S-sorry…"

Arthur chuckled, "Don't be… it's me who should be sorry…" The Brit sighed, "The twins were right – not only did I end up hurting myself, but I hurt Kiku, you and Heracles and Sadik… It was terrible what I did."

"It kinda was…" Alfred admitted. Arthur was a little shocked at the American's honesty, but then the Brit realised that Alfred was simply telling the truth. Smiling a little, Arthur realised he was glad Alfred was as honest as he really was.

"So… are you still dating him?" Alfred asked, breaking the growlingly awkward silence.

Arthur shrugged his shoulders, "I don't really know… I guess _technically_ we are, but I don't believe either of us really _want_ to be in a relationship. Or I don't, anyway. I'll have a word with him tomorrow about it – it's late now, anyway."

The American looked down at his shoes, shuffling his feet, "So… does that mean…"

"… We can get together…?" Arthur concluded Alfred's unfinished question. Truth be told, both of them had been _thinking_ about the relationship with the other that they were almost bound to be in one day if their wishes came true, but now it actually came to that one moment – that one awkward moment – neither of them were very sure how to react, or even if they _wanted_ it.

Alfred was obviously aware of the doubt both of them were feeling, and he leant down to hold Arthur's hand, while cupping his cheek with the other free hand, a smile twitching at his lips, "Well, why don't we take it slow? See if we like it? You never know – we might just be better off as friends."

"No." Arthur answered quickly and defiantly, "I don't want that. I want to be _with_ you… but I want you to be with me, too, if you get me? I don't want us to be 'Arthur' and 'Alfred'… I want us to be 'Arthur and Alfred'." He demonstrated in the air by drawing little quotation marks around his words.

"I'm sure that can be arranged, Artie." Alfred smiled, and leant down, letting their lips meet gently. Like always, their kisses were a little awkward – but that was due to their age and their uncertainty. But it was defiantly enjoyable, and once Alfred lifted his lips away from the Brit's, both had cleared all doubt in their mind. Right now, all they wanted was to be able to do that again, but to be allowed to do it. They wanted to be together, even if it killed them.

"Date? Tomorrow after school?" Arthur asked, only using the vital words to get the message across – he was too flustered to concentrate properly.

Alfred nodded defiantly, "Try and stop me."

And, with that, the two were kissing once again, so glad that _finally_ after everything, they'd _finally_ obtained what they truly desired – the other's heart.

**A/N**

**Hellos! :D ARTIE AND ALFIE ARE FINALLY TOGETHER :'D after so long! But don't think that's the end of their problems! This is only the beginning! MWHAHAHA. Lol jk. But it's not over yet!**

**u.u I'm worried I'm getting a little repetitive u.u" I hope I'm not! Well, I can pretty much guarantee that if I _am_ getting repetitive, then soon things WILL change X'D**

**Thank you for your kind reviews (200+ Q_Q THANK YOU!) and I genuinely thought I'd never get such good feedback! I love you all for this ^^ Thank you!**

**I'm excited for the next chapter, so it could be up tomorrow (or even today!) but I'm not eniterly sure, as I have a load of music-related shit going on tomorrow :P not looking forward to. So I might not get time XD but the weekend has almost guaranteed updates!**

**I SHALL SEE YOU THERE :D**


	30. Open your presents, then!

**Chapter Thirty – Open your presents, then!**

"Hey Arthur, you've got a fancy-looking envelope over here…" Alfred yawned, shuffling through the post that was personally sorted through and delivered by Mr. Belischmidt (he didn't want any 'suspicious items' being posted in and out of the school) discarding the letters that neither of them needed, "Aww, awesome! My mom sent some candy!" He was soon distracted from the odd envelope addressed to his roommate, opening up a parcel of his own.

Curious, Arthur emerged from out of the kitchen, turning over the very fancy envelope that had arrived in the post. A little confused on whatever the envelope could be concealing, he carefully prised it open, not wanting to damage the expensive-looking paper. The moment he saw what was inside though he really couldn't care less about damaging the envelope.

"Awesome! _Look_ at all this stuff! Good job she sent it all, too! I was just coming to the end of that other box of Lucky Charms you got me the other day! Man, she's sent me, like, _four!" _Alfred gazed into the box, astounded, and then found a little note off his mother, and began reading parts of it aloud, "'we're all missing you'…. Blah, blah… 'Don't eat the candy all at once' Yeah right, mom! What's candy _for?_ 'Your friends all say hi, and home you're having a good time'," he skimmed through the rest, reading out the last lines, "'I hope you've made some new friends! We're coming to visit in the summer, so you can let us meet them!' oh awesome! Arthur, you can meet my mom! Though I think it'd be best if we introduce you as just my best friend for now, it could get a little complicated, y'know?" Alfred grinned, then looked up, a little puzzled when Arthur didn't reply, "Arthur? Artie? You listening?"

Arthur however was very concerned with his own letter, "Shit, shit, shit. This – is – bad." He was gripping the letter with both hands, looking over it again and again, making sure he had read it right, "Oh god damn it."

Before Alfred could ask what was wrong, the door had burst open (they'd left it open _again?)_ and through it ran Owain and Alastair, both in pyjamas, and holding identical letters to Arthur's. The brothers all; exchanged worried glances.

"You got one, too, then?" Alastair groaned.

"Of course I did! She's my mother too!" Arthur growled, annoyed.

"Okay, calm it, you two! We're all a little pissed at finding this out, but we need to calm down. It can be a good thing, right? I mean at least she's settling down (again) right?" Owain pleaded with them diplomatically.

Alastair then turned on the Welsh boy, "Yeah, but how many times has she 'settled down'? It's not good for her fucking health, and she's beginning to look like a slut!"

Meanwhile, Alfred was getting a little annoyed that he had no idea what was going on. "Would someone mind explaining to me what the hell you're all talking about?"

The brothers all glanced down at Alfred, each with an expression of negativity pasted all over their faces. Finally Owain was the one to explain, with little mumbles and groans of disapproval from both Arthur and Alastair, "Well, I'm sure by now you've gathered that our mother… 'gets around' a little. There's no time to tell you the _whole_ story right now, but basically in the last… five years or so she's married and divorced three guys – our fathers. Now, it seems she's marrying Arthur and Peter's father, Daniel Evans."

Alfred tilted his head to the side, confused, "But why is that such a bad thing?"

"It's a bad thing because _last _time she got married, she swore it was going to be the last time she was going to get married. _And _the time before that. She doesn't understand the idea of a 'long term relationship'. Plus there's the small issue that Arthur's dad is a complete dick." Alastair cut across Owain, and didn't attempt to 'beat around the bush'.

"As much as I hate agreeing with him, it's true." Arthur growled, "My dad's been unfair to Alastair and the twins, and especially Owain. Ever since our mum got with him, it almost seems like she doesn't care about us any more. She's a bit of a chameleon – she'll act like whoever she's with, you see? And, because my dad is such a dick, ever since they've hooked up, whenever she's talking to us and he's around, she hasn't said the nicest things. She doesn't _mean_ to, she's just been… morphed a little. And this marriage can only make it worse…"

Nodding, Alfred chewed on his lip, "Ah… I see what you mean. Man, I feel bad for you guys…"

Just then, the door swung open once again, and through it ran the twins, closely followed by Peter, each holding letters. Colin was first to speak (though no one knew the difference between the twins) "This is not good, brothers. We need a plan to rumble it!"

"I agree with Col completely." Shane nodded, narrowing his eyes, "But _that_ little brat won't let us." Everyone's attention was brought to Peter, who was smiling happily.

"Why can't you let mum and dad be together? They're happy, aren't they! Just because you all think dad's been mean to you – _which he hasn't _– you're all just sensitive idiots! And if he _had _said something so 'terribly mean' to you, it would be because you _deserve_ it – you're all a bunch of deluded creeps! I mean _how_ many of you are gay?" Peter spat, glaring at his brothers. Peter, because of the passed-on principles from his father, was pretty much the only homophobic in the entire school now that Mr. Alden had left. No one could really _blame_ him for being homophobic – he'd been brought up being told that it was wrong, and any gay was a freak of nature. He was younger than Arthur, and therefore more vulnerable to adapting their father's very shallow principles.

But right now, all of the brothers were too annoyed to care about Peter's upbringing. Strangely it was Colin that spoke up first, "Just because you want a big, happy family, it doesn't mean you're going to get one, Peter! Yeah, so some of your siblings might be gay, but that doesn't affect _you_ in any way! You're too attached to _that man –_ you think he actually _cares_ about us! The only one he cares about is himself and that he gets a satisfactory shag with _our_ mother, regardless of what the consequences are! You may _think_ he's a good man, but hell, then that makes _you _the deluded one!"

A little taken aback at Colin's words, Peter stayed stunned for a moment, blinking a few times before re-discovering his tongue, "Whatever, Colin! You're just jealous because both mum _and_ your dad practically rejected you! And when you _finally_ convinced your old man to let you stay with him, you found out he remarried a slut! At least my dad actually _gives_ a shit!" Peter cackled evilly at both Shane and Colin's very pissed expressions, and the fact Alastair was watching cautiously in case he had to jump quickly and hold one of the twins back from lashing at Peter.

"Peter, go back to your fucking room and go and annoy your roommate? It's his birthday, isn't it? Go and bake a fucking cake and leave us be." Alastair glowered at the smallest boy. Hastily, his head hanging, Peter obliged and shuffled out the room, but not without glaring at all of his brothers. Everyone knew that Alastair was the only one that could control Peter, but that was only because the boy was so scared of the eldest brother. Hell, _everyone_ was scared of Alastair if the guy was in a bad mood.

Once the lock of the door clicked, it was like someone popped a pin in a balloon, letting out all the tension that'd been trapped inside. A few of the boys even exhaled deeply, closing their eyes with relief. Alfred was especially glad to see the back of Peter, as that whole argument _had_ been more than a little awkward for him.

"What was all that about?" Alfred let his eyes widen as he leant back in his seat, fanning himself with his own letter off his mother.

Arthur rolled his eyes, "Why do you think we avoid him? Every time we're all in the same room, in one way or another an argument about our fathers breaks out. He's just too naïve to understand… hopefully he will one day." Arthur smiled gently, and gingerly let his fingers drape cautiously across Alfred's shoulder. It was a very subtle action, and if it were anyone else it could've been waved off as a casual touch. However, unluckily for Arthur, his brothers knew very well that such contact wouldn't be made unless there was a 'special relationship' between the two of them. Of course, the Kirkland brothers being the Kirkland brothers, they all immediately picked up on the action.

"Hah! Shane, look!" Colin nudged his brother, and they exchanged knowing looks. Arthur and Alfred suddenly jumped away, but it was too late, as all the brothers, Alastair and Owain included, had now turned to look at the chaste contact between Arthur and Alfred.

"Get in there Jones!" Shane winked happily, and then to Arthur, "As for you, dear brother, keep hold of him – you'll never get a chance like this again!"

Owain chipped in at this point, "What're you talking about, Shane? Alfred's like a little puppy! He might run away from home, but he'll always try his best to find his way back!" The Welsh boy giggled, and exchanged glances with Alastair, then turned back to Arthur, "But seriously, I'm happy for you two."

"Take care of him, mate." Alastair met Alfred's eyes, keeping his expression neutral, "You can remember what I said to you a while back about this. You keep your side of the bargain, and I won't punch you." He concluded with a deliberately fake laugh, but then broke out in a genuine smile and leaned in for a surprise high-five for the American.

At this point, Arthur was blushing rather obviously, "Y-You guys are idiots… you're talking like we're getting _married_ or something…"

"That's a good point! Maybe we could convince mum to make it a joint wedding! You can borrow her wedding dress, Artie!" Shane grinned, nudging Arthur happily.

"Idiot, it's illegal for two guys to get married. Or in the UK it is… 'pparently some states in America let you do it." Owain shrugged, smiling.

"Oh yeah, 'cause you _would_ know that, Owain~" Colin teased, making the Welsh boy burn up.

"N-no! Nothing like that! I haven't been researching it! I-I-! Oh, _Iesu Grist… Beth ydw i ei wneud gyda chi?" _The boy began muttering to himself in Welsh worriedly.

Alfred decided that he didn't want to creep around with Arthur – he wanted everyone to know that Arthur was _his_, so why not start here? "You bet me and Artie are dating! Don't worry, he's safe with me, aren't ya, Artie?" The American winked, and just like that, he pulled Arthur closer over to him, and intended to peck him on the lips, though he lingered there a little too long and the peck soon became a full-blown kiss.

After many wolf-whistles off the twins, and affectionate cooing from Owain, Arthur and Alfred finally broke apart, and Alfred didn't know how close to being punched by a mortified Arthur he'd been. Luckily for him, deep down Arthur had rather enjoyed the kiss.

"So, is anyone else wondering what the hell Gilbert is doing?" Alastair piped up, "Y'know, with that huge plan for Matthew or something? Alfred, you should know something about it, shouldn't you?"

Alfred looked up, "Hmm? Well I don't really know – I was just wondering about and I ran into Gilbert, and before I knew it, he locked me up in his kitchen and got me to wrap random items. They didn't seem to be all that significant…"

"Well put on some clothes and we'll go and spy on them, then!" Arthur rolled his eyes, the only one of all the boys to have some decent clothes on, a fed stomach and brushed teeth.

It looked like this time, none of the brothers wanted to argue with the orders from their younger brother, "Yes, sir!" Chorused the twins, and they danced back to their own room, discussing how badly they thought Gilbert was going to screw up.

"I guess we'll see you guys later, then!" Owain smiled, waving at Arthur and Alfred quickly before skipping out of the room, pulling Alastair's pyjama sleeve behind him, leaving the room with mutterings from Alastair about how Gilbert just took things too seriously.

"Want to help me get ready?" Alfred winked at Arthur once the door shut.

Glaring, Arthur managed to control his blush, "Just get on with it, you idiot."

* * *

An hour later, a little crowd had gathered around Gilbert and Francis' room, everyone wanting to know about Gilbert's famous birthday present for Matthew – apparently the rumour had spread quickly. Included in the crowd were of course Alfred and Arthur and the rest of the Kirkland brothers. Gilbert however was nowhere to be seen. Apparently he was inside his room and putting the 'finishing touches' to the presents he'd assembled for Matthew.

Finally, the albino emerged from his door, accompanied by Francis, the both of them covered in glitter and pretty pink bows, holding baskets of equally fluffy presents in their arms, a knowing grin being shared between the two of them. No one was quite sure what to say, other than the obvious question.

"The hell?" Alfred spoke up for the group, looking torn between breaking down into fits of laughter or taking over Kiku's job and taking pictures (Kiku hadn't been sighted since last night, hence the reason Alfred decided it'd be okay to stay over in Arthur and Kiku's dorm) he didn't get to choose between the two, however, as Gilbert was already talking.

"If you want to find out what the hell's going on, then I suggest you follow us!" Gilbert winked, and then added, "But make sure to be at least a _little_ subtle. I'm sure Matthew wouldn't really appreciate a load of you watching as I ravish him – like the _good_ ravish, not the rape ravish." He corrected himself quickly, "So don't let yourselves be seen, idiots!"

The crowd obliged, no one complaining as long as they got to see what was going on with the school's famed love-triangle. Gilbert walked in the front, Francis following closely behind as the two were connected with a gigantic pink ribbon. Behind the two and their heaps of presents, the crowd followed, splitting up into smaller groups so they could hide behind random objects like plants and chairs that had been used to make the hallways of the castle seem a little more homely. Before long they arrived outside Matthew and Alfred's shared dorm, everyone holding their breaths as Gilbert lifted his hand, gently knocking on the door.

After a few seconds of scrambling behind the door, Matthew emerged, Kiku standing behind him. (_That's_ where he'd been…) The Canadian looked like he wanted to shut the door right back in Gilbert's face when he saw the very odd scene in front of him. Little did Gilbert know, the thing that saved his nose from being smashed in was Francis' subtle little look he gave Matthew. The French boy met Matthew's violate eyes, and raised a finger to his lips, as if to say 'shh, just let him say what he's got to say.' Of course, Matthew being head-over-heels for Francis listened to the blonde, but he still didn't get Gilbert.

"Happy Birthday, Matthew!" Gilbert gently placed down the presents he was carrying on the floor, and flung his arms around the Canadian, "See? I told you I'd remember!"

Matthew was more than a little taken aback. First there was the issue of Francis and Gilbert being dressed up in pink, fluffy things (were they taking the piss or something…? They _knew_ Matthew hated the whole gay stereotyping thing…) then there was the odd, mountain of presents, equally pink and fluffy behind Francis and Gilbert. Then there was the fact Matthew was very secretly happy that the two had remembered his birthday. It wasn't like he'd _expected_ anyone to. The last person that gave him a birthday card was his mother. It wasn't that people didn't _care_ about him – they just forgot about him.

"Ah! Matthew-san! It's your birthday today? I'm very sorry for forgetting! You should've said!" Kiku smiled weakly, patting him on the back lightly. Matthew didn't want to tell Kiku that actually he _had_ informed the Japanese boy that today was his birthday, as it'd probably make the boy even more flustered than he needed to be.

"Come now, _mon cher_, won't you open your presents?" Francis smiled happily. Matthew wearily studied him – the last he could remember, Francis had been kinda pissed at him for the whole 'I like you' thing, but hey, he was French, so who could blame him?

Obediently, Matthew began to open the package Francis handed to him. Inside the pink wrapping paper he found a neatly folded piece of material. Confused, Matthew dropped the paper (which was quickly retrieved by Gilbert) unfolding the fabric to find that it wasn't simply material, it was actually the trench coat he'd been admiring for weeks. The Canadian gazed up at Francis, who winked, and Matthew flung his arms around the taller blonde.

"Thank you, thank you, _thank you!"_ Matthew repeated again and again, remembering just how many zeroes had been on the hefty price tag that he'd read on the coat.

"It's no problem, _mon cher,_ but, if I were you, I'd give Gilbert a bit of attention before he explodes with jealousy." Francis chuckled, gently detaching himself from Matthew's vice-like grip, and handing the baton over to the albino.

Matthew gazed at Gilbert's own pile of presents for him, each wrapped beautifully in the Canadian-flag themed wrapping paper. How much had Gilbert _spent_ on him?

After five minutes of sitting on the floor and gently ripping the paper open, Matthew had a little pile of random inanimate objects lying at the side of him. He'd opened about half of the presents already (he was starting with the smallest and working upwards) but they weren't exactly your average selection of presents. They were odd little things like leaves, petals and little notes. Things that you'd be able to go and collect from a waste paper bin, or outside. There was even a bottle of _sun cream_ and the inside spread of a porn magazine.

"Gilbert, what's all of this?" Matthew issued to the little pile that lay beside him.

The albino grinned, tapping his nose, "Don't worry, Mattie! You'll figure it out soon enough!"

Shrugging and eyeing Gilbert wearily, Matthew reached for the next biggest package, and found that it was none other than _his own_ scarf. The boy narrowed his eyes in confusion, "Oi, you can't give something to someone if they already own it! I was looking for their scarf! But I won't need it in the middle of _summer… _Gilbert, what's going on?"

"Don't worry, Mattie!" He repeated, "Open the others and _slowly_ you'll realise. Hopefully. 'Cause if you don't then I'm screwed."

Sighing, Matthew reached for the next biggest – this was about the size of an A4 sheet of paper, but very thick and heavy. Matthew had _no_ idea what could be inside, and was rather shocked to find two large photo frames inside. He reached for the first, turning it over so he could see what picture Gilbert had placed there, and found a beautifully mounted, minimized movie poster of 'Snow White and the Huntsman' featuring Kristen Stewart. But, upon studying it, Matthew realised that the little picture wasn't just a little picture, as in the corner was a little message and a scribble. Heart in his mouth, Matthew read aloud the scribble:

"'To Matthew – happy thirteenth birthday! Love…'" He very nearly fainted at this point, "'K-K-Kristen Stewart'! Gilbert! This is a _personalised and sighed picture! _Where the _holy hell_ did you _get _this!"

Chuckling, Gilbert slung an arm around Matthew, "I have my ways! A magician cannot reveal his tricks!"

At this point, Matthew was beyond keeping his pride – he didn't care if anyone saw him, or how anyone would take it – he flung his arms around the chuckling Gilbert, and pressed the tiniest of kisses on the albino's cheek. He was _about _to say 'I love you' in that friendly way, but then decided that given the current situation, Gilbert would probably take it the wrong way. Matthew straightened up, smiling warmly at the positively radiant grin plastered all over the albino's face.

"I still don't get what's with the inanimate objects." Matthew pouted, hugging the frame and looking down to his little pile. Gilbert simply tapped his nose once again. Smiling gently, Matthew turned over the second picture frame to see what was behind the glass.

Of course, he wasn't as chuffed as he'd been with his _signed_ picture of Kristen Stuart, but the picture that Gilbert had placed in the glass still did bring a little bubble of happiness appear somewhere within him. The picture Gilbert had chosen was one that had been taken on their trip to the beach around a month ago. It had been the day it was abnormally hot, and Gilbert had been complaining about how he was surely going to burn. The picture that was framed had been taken by Feliciano, and it was one impressive shot. He'd managed to capture the group for what they really were – Lovino was shoving away Antonio, who was desperately trying to hug the Italian; both Francis and Gilbert were persuading Matthew for a kiss (as this was before the whole fiasco of discovering Francis was only using Matthew as rebound) and Kiku and Ludwig were watching the situation from the sidelines, sharing a worried look. It made Matthew beam to remember the day, as it'd been the times when he'd been least troubled.

And then he remembered the sun cream he'd placed in his pile inanimate objects. Narrowing his eyes, the Canadian picked up the sun cream, studying it, "Hey, Gilbert – is this sun cream the bottle I gave you at the beach? You said you were going to go completely red, and I told you I had the same problem, so I gave you my sun cream."

"You got it! Now, think about that for the other stuff!" Gilbert winked, issuing to the pile.

"Hang on… The signed picture – it's not just a picture of Kristen; it's the poster of the _movie_ – so would that be the one we saw on our... ehh… 'date' a few weeks back?"

Gilbert nodded, glad that his plan was working.

"Oh! This scarf!" Matthew picked up his scarf, "I gave it to on that same date because you were cold! Then, this…" He picked up the porn magazine cut-out, "Is that porn you bought as a decoy for the flowers…?" Gilbert nodded, grinning. Catching on, Matthew began to understand the sentiment behind each of the items on the floor. It turned out some of the leaves were off exact trees where Gilbert and Matthew had their favourite conversations under, and the petals were from flowers that reminded Gilbert of Matthew. The notes that'd been folded up were all ones that they'd exchanged over the years in class when there was really nothing else to do – it made Matthew giggle at the memories as he read through them and a fond expression sweep over his face.

"I understand now! Gilbert, you're a _genius!"_ Matthew grinned.

"Don't say that – you haven't opened them all yet, silly!" Gilbert winked, ruffling Matthew's hair.

Soon enough, Matthew was surrounded by his own memories effectively. It had seemed like Gilbert had gone _everywhere_ that was significant to their friendship and taken a little souvenir back. Matthew was overjoyed – although the presents weren't exactly functional (apart from that _gigantic _bottle of maple syrup – Matthew could think of _many_ uses for that) they still meant something to him. Maybe he even liked them just a tiny bit more than his trench coat and Kirsten Stewart _signed_ picture (he could _not_ get over that.) but he didn't want to admit it.

Grinning, Gilbert ruffled Matthew's hair, "Like it, then?"

Matthew just nodded rapidly, not sure what else to say.

"Well, good news! It's not over yet!" Gilbert winked, and pulled Francis closer to the pair of them, "You see, there's a reason me and Francey-pants have bows on us~"

The Canadian just gave Gilbert a gormless look.

"You're so clueless it's adorable!" Gilbert grinned, "Well, what do you put bows on? Presents!"

The gormless look stayed on Matthew's face.

Francis rolled his eyes, "You're an idiot, Gilbert! Explain it properly!" He then turned to Matthew, speaking softly, "What Gilbert is _trying_ to say, is… we're giving you _ourselves_, you understand?"

"I'm _so_ confused." Matthew concluded.

Chuckling, Francis rolled his eyes, "Okay, perhaps this will help you understand." The French boy leaned over to Gilbert, whispering a few words in the German's ear – Gilbert was _delighted_ at whatever Francis said, and began hopping around with excitement, "Okay, _mon cher_, here is your present~"

With that, Francis leaned down, holding Matthew's head _very_ still, and pressed their lips together in an adorably chaste way. The crowd who was hiding very well (and been forgotten about) came very close to blowing their cover, as most of the boys at this point were either in fits of silent giggles, (like Alfred) melting at the romance of the situation, (like Owain and Arthur, though they both refused to show it) or had just completely lost interest (like Alastair.) However, Francis and Matthew were a little _busy_ to care or even _notice_ that people were watching their every move.

Once the kiss had come to an end, Matthew was blushing hotly, not wanting to meet Francis' eyes, so muttered to the floor, "B-But I thought… what about _Owain?_"

Francis shook his head, smiling, "We'll discuss this after. I'm not the only one with a bow on me." Francis issued to Gilbert, who was smiling – not grinning – a little sadly.

"Now, I know – you don't like me like that, I understand." Gilbert smiled, "But I need to go along with Francey's plan, 'kay? And I don't want him pissed at me again after we've only just made up~ besides; it's the thought that counts!" Gilbert reasoned, and very quickly leaned into Matthew for a very quick peck on the lips, and pulled away pretty much as soon as it'd begun, "Happy Birthday, Matthew."

Matthew _wasn't_ satisfied.

"Hey." He began, pouting, "If you're going to give someone a present then at least do it properly." And Matthew simply looped his arms around Gilbert's shoulders, leaning up on his tiptoes and crushed their lips together. Matthew didn't even know _why_ he did it – he just knew he _wanted_ to do it. It was certainly a deeper kiss than Francis' experienced little chaste, perfect embrace – this was more than a little bit desperate, inexperienced and very messy, but neither _cared_.

Matthew didn't know if what he'd done was for the better of the worse, or if he'd just entered something he really shouldn't have, but for the present moment _nothing mattered_. At all. He just wanted to kiss Gilbert, and he wanted to kiss Gilbert more than he wanted to kiss anyone else.

**A/N**

**Ooh~ lucky Gilbert! X'D  
I can't say anything about what's happening in the future with these three – you will find out soon!  
Little translator thing here – about halfway through, Owain says '**_Iesu Grist… Beth ydw i ei wneud gyda chi' _**which means '**Jesus Christ, what am I going to do with you all?**' I think X'D **

**And thank you to the people that have told me about my 'defiantly' 'definitely' issues ^^" I can't even use the excuse English isn't my first language – 'cause it is X'D I just suck at spelling ^^" Thank you for the pointer ^^ I'll go change 'em whenever I get time/can be bothered :D**

**So ya might've noticed the chapters are getting a teeny bit longer? Well it's probably going to stay that way, as I want to finish this in as little chapters as possible, so there'll be more words in each ^^ so rather than 3000-4000 (what I usually do) I'll be aiming for 4000-5000 words ^^ so you'll probably have to wait a little longer for chapters and stuff ^^**

**Oh also! With the end bit, and Matthew's talking about memories and stuff, that was referencing to mainly Chapter Seven and Chapter twenty ^^" sorry if ya can't remember em XD**

**Thank you very much for reading, and I love your reviews! :D /hugs all/ love youuuu! **

**Bah bye~**


	31. The Axis TreasureQuest Hunting Trio

**Chapter thirty one – The Axis Treasure-Quest Hunting Trio**

The next few days flew past, and before the student body knew it, they were entering the final week of the school year. Their last day would be Friday 20th July, only around one hundred and ten hours before they were let free. But, as it was Monday, that was still one hundred and ten hours still too early.

The past week had gone pretty smoothly – Alfred's birthday had passed with a huge, blue cake and a surprise party, and now everyone in their year was officially a teenager, as Alfred was the youngest. _Somehow_ the word of Arthur and Alfred's relationship had quickly spread around the entire school, and only a few days after letting his brothers know about his budding love, he found Miss Héderváry calling him over in their form room, and starting to chat quietly to him about 'the joys of the male body'. Of course, the information leek had _nothing_ to do with neither the twins nor Alastair.

There was one thing that no one was too sure on, however – for instance, the status between Matthew, Francis and Gilbert. The last anyone had heard, Matthew had very happily been kissing Gilbert, but then word got round the next day that someone had seen none other than the very same Canadian and Francis talking (in an _empty_ classroom) in a very 'urgent, and almost sexual way' as the eavesdropper had said. Though they remained anonymous, everyone secretly knew that it defiantly had something to do with a certain pair of twins. Again.

The events of Matthew's shower of birthday presents had got morphed with rumours and slightly changed stories, and no one could quite remember if it was Matthew who kissed Gilbert, of if Gilbert had kissed Matthew… After all, the main thing that stuck in everyone's mind had been Gilbert's little firework show. Finally, Arthur and Professor Wang understood the reason behind Gilbert's need for potassium. The albino had learnt from one of his favourite science lessons that if you put potassium in water, it goes purple and explodes – so the boy had very cleverly arranged a little potassium firework show, all in Matthew's name, and everyone had been impressed with it – even Professor Wang.

Kiku was still keeping his distance from… well, _everyone_ recently. Every time Arthur came to speak to him about Alfred, and try to apologize, Kiku just nodded his head and quickly departed with the excuse of homework, or Yong Soo demanding that he was to come to the music room to practice their band's songs. Heracles had seen only the back of Kiku's head for the past week, and he desperately wanted to try and make things up between the two of them. Everyone was telling him just to give up, and he'd come very close to calling Sadik up for a one night stand, but Heracles decided that Kiku had said 'yet' – that didn't mean _never_. He'd just have to be patient.

As for Feliciano and Lovino's argument, well, that was a lost cause of Lovino's part. The poor Italian had never really argued with his brother; or rather, it'd never been _Feliciano_ to be the one pulling a huff – usually it was completely reversed. If the argument was with anyone else, Lovino would be fine – after all, with his difficult attitude it was very easy to get into arguments, and more often than not he was the one apologising. But Feliciano was just so different from your average student, and whenever he was annoyed with you, he was annoyed with you. Lovino hadn't spoken to him since the argument, and though he didn't want to admit it, he really was missing his younger brother's sweet, if not a little annoying company.

_And that is why_, Lovino's internal voice muttered, _you're here to _apologize –_ so that means no shouting, no blaming everything on the 'Potato Bastard' and remember that _you're_ the one in the wrong. Just apologise to Feli, and then you can go. No questions asked. He'll forgive you and it'll all be okay._

Lifting his hand, Lovino knocked softly on the door, hoping that his brother was in.

Sure enough, very soon the door opened, and Feliciano was peering through the frame. The minute the younger Italian set eyes on his older brother, his gentle expression hardened, leaving a stony _glare_ in its place. Lovino very nearly ran away at seeing Feliciano's glare – he'd never seen it before, and he hoped that he'd never, ever have to see it again.

"F-Feli…" Lovino began, trying his best to meet his brother's eyes, "I-I want to apologise…"

Raising an eyebrow, Feliciano's glare got a little more dangerous, "Oh? And you know what you're apologising _for?_"

Not entirely sure he could believe what he was hearing, Lovino stumbled a little, "W-What? Well…" He thought about his answer, and suddenly realised; he had no idea what he'd done wrong to his brother, "N-no, not really…" He admitted sheepishly.

"Well I'm not ready to accept your apology until you understand why I'm angry." Feliciano said simply, going to close the door. Reacting on impulse only, Lovino's foot quickly shot out and blocked the door, buying Lovino at least a few more seconds pleading time with his brother.

"Please, Feli! You know me; I'm a complete idiot with stuff like this! I didn't even know that I'd _annoyed_ you until Antonio explained that was why you were avoiding me… How am I ever going to understand what I did if you don't tell me?" Lovino was quite impressed with himself and his pleading-skills. He'd never been _this_ honest before – maybe Antonio was rubbing off on him.

Chewing the answer over, Feliciano eyed his brother suspiciously, "Fine. I'm annoyed because the only reason you don't want me and Ludwig together is because of your _stupid_ box of tomatoes."

"They were the best tomatoes in the world!" Lovino growled, and then realised that he needed to grovel, "Okay, okay, I was childish – I still am, but that stupid German isn't good for you! He'll make you all messed up inside – he's using you!"

"And where did you get that from, Lovino? Do you have any _evidence_ to back up anything you said? Have you even _spoken_ to him recently? Have you seen him and how he acts around me?"

Suddenly Lovino felt very, _very _small.

"Okay, okay, so I'm accusing him without evidence – I'm only _worried_ about you! He gives me the creeps!" Lovino said, "Look, I'm sorry. I'll leave you two be, okay?"

Nodding, Feliciano's expression softened a bit – little did Lovino know, Feliciano was actually finding it very hard not to crack with his brother. He wanted more than anything to just forgive the poor guy, and get on with life, but Ludwig had told him that if he showed his brother that he sometimes needs to apologise, then it'd be more beneficial to him in the long run. "So you'll stop being mean to Ludwig?"

With an ashamed, pained nod, Lovino sighed, "Yes."

"And you'll accept that I love him and he loves me?" Feliciano smiled.

Not believing that he could actually _agree_, Lovino gritted his teeth, and nodded sharply, "You love whoever you love, right?"

"Right." Feliciano confirmed with a warm smile, "I forgive you, Lovi~"

Lovino's look of relief almost made Feliciano crack up with laughter – he'd never seen his brother looking so much like himself! Their roles had been completely reversed, and it kinda felt good to be the one in control for once, Feliciano decided, though he much preferred his usual role of crying and going to Ludwig for a big hug and now and then a kiss of forgiveness.

Then Feliciano had an idea.

"Wait! I'll forgive you… _If_ you tell Ludwig what you just told me!"

Lovino very nearly fainted.

"What! I can't tell him that! Just because I'm not going to say anything to him from now on, does _not_ mean I'm planning on getting all holdy-handy, flower-sharing and up close and personal with him! C'mon, Feli cut me some slack!"

"Nope! If you don't tell him, then I'm not forgiving you!" Feliciano sang, only half-serious.

At this exact point, both Antonio and Ludwig were returning from the music room. The two of them had been asked to take part in an ensemble with some year sevens, and seeing as their dormitories were very close, they'd decided to walk back together, and just so happened to stumble across the two of their boyfriends right in the doorway.

"C'mon, c'mon! You have to tell him!" Feliciano was grinning, looking pleased that he'd found a new way to wind his brother up.

"I'm not telling him!" Lovino growled in response.

Ludwig and Antonio exchanged curious glances, "Tell who what?" Ludwig said with a clueless tone.

At the German's words, Lovino froze, turning around very slowly to meet the eyes of the star of all his tomato-themed nightmares. Gritting his teeth, Lovino took a weary glance at both Antonio and Feliciano, the only two people he actually trusted, and with a deep gulp of air, he began:

"I'm sorry I've been a bastard to you, Potato Ba- I mean Ludwig. It was out of order. I have no real reason to hate you, apart from the fact you stood on all my juicy, amazing, perfect tomatoes when we were kids –_ and then laughed at me_ – and that's not a good enough reason, apparently. So I wish you luck with Feliciano, but if you break his heart, I don't care how fucking tall or how many zeroes are on the end of your muscle mass, but I will break your fucking nose." The words came out in rather a rush, making the paragraph sound like one long stream of pointless words, but Ludwig got the main message, especially with the part about tomatoes.

"There. I said it." Lovino pouted, and quickly ran off to Antonio's open, slightly shaking from laughter, arms, "Ciao, fratello." And quickly the Italian and the Spaniard fled the scene, leaving Ludwig rather stunned, shaking his head.

"I wondered why he always hated me… so it was because of those tomatoes? Who'd have known…" Ludwig chuckled, ruffling Feliciano's hair, "You know, if you weren't so close with him, I'd really despise that boy."

Feliciano tilted his head into Ludwig's hand, a lot like a cat does when getting stroked, "He's not a boy! He's older than you!"

"Yes, but who's the more mature of the two of us?" Ludwig pointed out.

"Good point – man, you're _always_ right, aren't you, Luddy~?" Feliciano smiled, "That's why I love you so much~!"

Blushing slightly, Ludwig pecked Feliciano on the cheek, "You're too sweet, Feli. I love you too, _Meine liebe_. Only you and forever you, for eternity."

"_Ti voglio baciare_" Feliciano muttered, tilting his lips up.

Ludwig had been teaching himself Italian ever since he'd met Feliciano in order to impress the boy (of course, his clueless boyfriend knew nothing of this) and, with his limited vocabulary of the language, Ludwig could roughly translate Feliciano's words to mean 'Kiss me', or something along the lines of that. But, the German got the picture, and he did indeed kiss the little Italian, whether he'd requested it or not.

The kiss was a lot shorter than Feliciano had hoped for, but the Italian wasn't complaining, as he was glad to spend time with Ludwig, "Hey, hey, Ludwig! Can we go on a date? Pretty, pretty please?"

Chewing on his lip in though, Ludwig decided that it'd be a good idea – after all, he and Feliciano hadn't been on a date in weeks due to his busy schedule, and to be fair the two of them deserved a little 'together time', "Yeah. That's a great idea!" Ludwig smiled, taking Feliciano's hand, and leading him into the room, discussing where they might venture on their date.

It was soon decided that the two of them would just simply go out to the park, and maybe to get dinner later. Neither of them had all that much money, as they were too young for jobs, yet too old for pocket money. Besides, it was a nice day, and you could always find a quiet place in the park.

The park it's self was the mid-point between the school and the town centre of Padstow. It was only a small little place, and the main occupants there were elderly citizens strolling around, muttering about the good old days, dog walkers and the students of Goverek boy's school and Coverack girl's school. Despite the quiet atmosphere, it was never lacking of life – the abundance of wildlife made up for the absence of people, and that was why Ludwig and Feliciano loved it so much. They often used to come here and study with Kiku whenever it was a warm day.

"Hey, hey, Ludwig~" Feliciano sang happily, running ahead of them, "D'ya remember the first time we came here?"

"Actually I do… I was just thinking about it the other day, you know." Ludwig chuckled, smiling, "Our first term in year seven – me, you and Kiku all came to explore, and you managed to get lost… it took us _all_ day to find you, because you were forever running about! But finally when we _did_ find you, you were in tears, and ran into my arms, going 'Ludwig! Ludwig! I thought I'd be lost forever!'" Ludwig impersonated Feliciano's words, and sounded freakishly like the Italian, "I think it was around then I began seeing you more as a friend than an annoying pain that followed me around." Ludwig joked lightly, tightening his grip on Feliciano's hand.

Feliciano didn't laugh like Ludwig had expected him to. In fact, the little Italian dropped his gaze, awkwardly biting the inside of his cheeks, "Do you _really_ think I'm that annoying, Ludwig? I know everyone says I'm annoying all the time, but I always kinda shake it off… but then I thought the other day… what if I _am_ annoying?"

Wanting to break down into tears and apologise endlessly to Feliciano, Ludwig felt a little piece of his heart crack off, "No! You're not annoying in the _slightest_, Feli! Everyone just says that because they love you! Do you understand me?"

Hesitantly meeting Ludwig's eyes, Feliciano nodded, though he was only doing so to stop Ludwig's worrying. Everyone thought Feliciano was so carefree, but really he _was_ quite conscious on his impact on other people, and really hated the idea of being a burden or a problem to someone else.

With the mood of their date well and truly assassinated, the two continued on their little walk around the reasonably sized duck pond, holding hands and avoiding each other's gazes.

Luckily, their awkward silence was remedied almost immediately by none other than the third member of their famous friendship group. Kiku was crouching on the ground, presumably looking for something he'd dropped, and Feliciano came very close to tripping over the unfortunate boy.

"Ah! Feliciano-san, Ludwig-san!" Kiku jumped up, blinking a few times at his friends. Well, if he was honest with himself, the Japanese boy wasn't even sure if he was friends with Feliciano and Ludwig anymore. He _wanted_ to be, of course, but they hadn't spoken in a long, long time. It seemed both of his European friends were aware of the awkward reunion, as they'd very suddenly grown quiet, and hung their heads in shame.

"H-Hi Kiku…" Feliciano tried to smile, loosening his grip on Ludwig's hand so Kiku didn't feel like he was the 'awkward third wheel'. Ludwig was feeling too bad about the lack of contact between his previous best friend and was too ashamed to even say anything.

Kiku could see that neither of them was really prepared for this, and being the sensitive friend he was, he plastered on a fake smile, shaking his head, "I'm very sorry, I'm interrupting you, aren't I? I hope you'll forgive my lack of manners. I'll see you both tomorrow." With a bow, he was off down the path, head hanging low to the ground.

Feliciano felt _terrible_. He could tell Kiku had obviously been hurting inside for the past few weeks – he'd had numerous conversations with Ludwig about their concern for him, but neither had actually got round to speaking to him; they both shrugged it off, thinking 'oh, I'll do it tomorrow', and before they knew it, 'tomorrow' was going on three weeks. Feliciano couldn't live with himself if he knowingly let Kiku wonder off in that lonely, depressing manner.

"Kiku! Wait!" Feliciano called, diving off down the path and grabbing the Japanese boy's hand. With a shocked little gasp, Kiku wheeled around, quite surprised that Feliciano had called him back. Without another word, Kiku had been pulled into a tight bear hug from the slightly taller Italian. Before either of them knew it, there was another weight to their right, and looking up they saw Ludwig had joined in the hug, easily enveloping the two in his freakishly long arms.

"I'm sorry we haven't been very good best friends." Feliciano buried his face into Kiku's t-shirt, getting straight to the point, "You have every reason to hate us!"

At that, Kiku only smiled, "Shh, Feliciano-san, let us not say any more on the matter, okay? I come to understand that things will… be like they used to be?"

Grinning, Ludwig pulled the two closer into his chest, "The famous Axis Treasure-Quest Hunting Trio are re-united just in time for the summer. Who wants to explore some corridors in the holidays?"

"Meeeee!" Feliciano's arm shot up, and he started raving about how amazing an explorer he'd be this time. Before he knew it, he had both Ludwig and Kiku laughing fondly, cooing about how naïve and adorable Feliciano was. It was indeed like things used to be between the three of them, like nothing at all had changed. Of course, everything had changed, both for the better and worse – two of their hearts had been pumped with confidence and love, while the other's had been shattered more than once. But with each other, the three of them could just forget about everything and have their fun childhood the way it was meant to be.

**A/N**

**Ahaha… I know it was like… one chapter ago when I said I'd be writing more in chapters, and I've ignored myself and written a short chapter here, but it just sort of fit XD if I'd continued writing to the next little bit I'm going on to, then you probably would've had to wait a while for this chapter XD so for that I'm sorry XD**

**Not much to say here ^^ but unless I didn't make it clear enough part way through the chapter, then '**_Ti voglio baciare__**' **_**means something like**_** '**__I want you to kiss me__**' **_**and**_** '**__Meine liebe__**' **_**means**_** '**__My love__**' **_**^^ correct me if I'm wrong, please! XD  
Thank you for amazing reviews and followers and favouriting stuff! I love you all! ^^**

**A little Welsh lesson~  
_Diolch yn fawr iawn! _(Thank you very much!) X'D **


	32. Cupid

**Chapter thirty two – Cupid**

"Settle down, for god's sake! Yes, it may be the final day of term, but that gives you no reason to run around like animals! As soon as that school bell goes, then hell – do what you want, providing it's legal, but right now – _shut it!"_ Mr. Belischmidt bellowed the final two words above the noise of the chattering students, and immediately the hall fell silent, every boy stiff and shrinking in their seats, no one daring to utter a word. It was the final assembly of the year – they were always held just before the very end of the school day - and no one wanted to be there.

"Thank you!" Mr. Belischmidt cleared his throat, glaring at the boys, "As I was saying before I was _rudely_ interrupted, I'm sure you all know that I've been chosen to be this school's next head teacher. Most of you know by gossiping, as one of my colleagues," he broke off to glare at Mr. Vargas, who was dozing quietly in the corner of the room, "had a bit of an 'information slip'. I assure you this won't happen again. But yes, now it is official – from today, I am your head. We were thinking about informing you after the holidays, but it was decided that this school couldn't really survive another day without a head teacher. Hopefully I will be better than the last. Thank you for your time, now I know Miss Héderváry has a few words she needs to say, informing you all about regulations in the holidays and other issues."

Mr. Belischmidt then nodded, walking down from the little raised podium which the past head had stood on to take assemblies. Miss Héderváry smiled at him as she passed, and took her place in the centre of the hall – she didn't like podiums.

"Thank you, Mr. Belischmidt, for that – and I know I will have everyone's word with me when I say you will definitely be a better head than Mr. Alden." She called over to the newly promoted head teacher, who was respectfully standing by the side of the room, preparing to listen to Miss Héderváry's assembly.

He smiled weakly at her words (everyone was shocked by _that!_ He never _smiled!)_ "Thank you for your kind words, Miss, but, although I have my best intentions for this school, I was never trained as a head teacher. I hate to admit it, but the job is a little daunting."

Before Miss Héderváry had chance to reply, Gilbert had jumped up from his chair, standing on it, "Don't worry, Vati! You're going to be the most awesome head teacher _of all time._ Right, guys?" he shouted, grinning at the people around him.

No one stood up.

"Oh come _on!_ Give me a bit of support here!" Gilbert complained, frowning at Antonio and Francis' giggling.

"Gilbert, sit down." Mr. Belischmidt arched an eyebrow at his son, rolling his eyes fondly at his terrible attempt for a corny, musical-esque scene where the protagonist (who of course would be Gilbert) cheers up someone in doubt of themselves, and as the protagonist makes the first move, everyone stands up around him, joining in with the choruses of compliments. Of course that never happens in real life, though Mr. Belischmidt did feel a little warmth inside him, and feel a little more confident that he'd make the school an ideal place to learn. He'd never tell Gilbert that, though – his head would get so big he wouldn't be able to walk…

Chuckling, Miss Héderváry called the attention back to herself, "Yes, as the head was saying, I have pulled the short straw and have to inform you about information concerning the holidays. First, the teachers that will be staying here are Mr. Edelstein and I (though in August we'll be absent for a few days, as we are to attend a wedding) along with Coach Braginski and Professor Wang. We expect _perfect_ behaviour, now." She winked, and then threw up her arms, "Who am I kidding? Kid – go wild – make us proud! We expect water fights, parties and if you don't break the curfew, we _will_ hand you over to the Coach!" She smiled, composing herself again, "No, I'll be serious – as most of you know, we really don't give a damn about holidays, it was only Mr. Alden before who stopped you doing the stuff you loved. We have all agreed that we want you to have a real childhood, and not end up like stuck up boarding school kids like this one here!" She playfully poked at Mr. Edelstein's chest, "Of course, you don't have to break the rules, but we're not going to do anything if you do! Hell, we might join in!"

From the front row, a hesitant hand went up, "What, Mr. Belischmidt agreed to _that?"_ He was only saying what everyone was thinking, after all.

"Honey, it was Mr. Belischmidt who _suggested_ it – do with that information what you will!" Miss Héderváry looked like she was having _way _too much fun up at the front of the hall. The students broke out into groups of chatter at this news, but were silenced by a loud, overpowering countdown from the teachers.

"Five… four… three… two… one…" They all chorused together – even Coach Braginski and Mr. Belischmidt – and when they reached the end of the count, the bell rung out like a preach from God himself, and the students practically floated out of their seats, all shouting happily, grinning and beginning to run about, chanting freedom songs and even the Lord's Prayer here and there.

"Have a brilliant holiday, boys, and I expect you in school bright and early on 3rd of September! Detention if you're late! Off with you, then – you're dismissed!" Mr. Belischmidt even had to bellow pretty loudly to be heard over the parades of the boys, though his bellows were only for volume, as a friendly smile covered his face, fondly waving over at his sons when they grinned at him when following the floods of students out of the door.

Alfred especially was very pleased for school to be out, "Arthur! I made it! It's summer! I'm not dead!" He flung his arms around the Brit.

Chuckling, Arthur didn't try to wrestle out of the American's strong grasp, "You've only been here for one term! That's like… what, seven weeks? That's nothing! You should start worrying about next year; then we decide about what subjects we plan on studying in further education and do our exams in."

"Sounds fun…" Alfred yawned, batting Arthur's hand away from his huge 'ahoge' as he'd heard Kiku calling it, only to re-capture the hand in his own soon later to let Arthur know that he was very happy about the contact between the two of them. The moment, however, was broken quite smoothly from a wolf-whistle from the twins, who happily skipped over, grinning like idiots.

"Artie, Alfred." They nodded, speaking simultaneously, "you coming down to ours for the party?" One, presumably Shane, asked.

Exchanging confused glances, Arthur and Alfred blinked at the pair, "Party?" Alfred asked, sounding all-too-innocent. "Yes, party, my dear friend! School's out – did you not just _hear_ Miss Héderváry? No rules, man! So we're having a party to celebrate!" The other said, nudging the American and leaning in a little closer, "Well, of course there are _some_ rules; she said it had to be legal, but hey – we're kids and we like bending the rules a little bit, so I'll let you into a little secret – Alastair has managed to raid Braginski's little vodka store, and he has some _pretty_ strong stuff down there!" The twin lowered his voice, leaning closer still to the rapidly blinking, intrigued pair, "and let me tell you; after Alastair had a shot of the stuff, he came very close to fainting. And that's _Alastair. _The Scot who had a stomach of steel and a throat of titanium. I've only ever seen him wasted once, and that was with his dad when he was binge drinking all night – he was weaned on the stuff, and Artie knows it."

Arthur blinked a few times, "_Alastair_ nearly fainted? Jesus."

"'patently his dad and Braginski used to be drinkin' mates, and even _he _wobbled a little." A twin nodded knowingly, "Which begs the question…"

"… Just how much alcohol does _Braginski _drink if he can down a bottle of vodka as strong as that…?" The four of them finished together, eyes widening as they suddenly realised just how scary their coach really was.

* * *

The party that night was more than a little wild. Arthur got drunk, Alfred got drunk, Owain got drunk – pretty much the entire attendance got drunk. It wasn't even that they were drinking a lot of alcohol – it was just that most of them had even _tried_ the stuff before, and with one or two beers or a shot of the revolutionary strong vodka, they were on the floor and Arthur was muttering things about fluffy unicorns, and threw his arms around Alfred, whining that he wasn't good enough for the American, because 'Flying Mint bunny loved him too, and Flying Mint bunny was a lot sexier than Arthur'.

By the end of the night it was clear who'd been bluffing and who'd been telling the truth about their many adventures with alcohol. Alastair who was under orders from Owain not to touch the vodka was still completely sober by the end of the night, even after draining a gigantic pile of bottles of various drinks. The twins, who'd _claimed_ to be experienced in this area were sleeping on top of one another, completely wasted (perhaps more than the younger students there!) while Francis, Gilbert and surprisingly Antoniowere acting like their usual selves, just as sober as Alfred. There were a few year tens and elevens in attendance, but most avoided the dorm like the plague, and had been heard shouting about how immature and what pussies they all were if they passed the door, Sadik being the main source of these incidents.

The first day of the holidays passed slowly in a series of headaches, and repeated 'Oh God, I didn't do _that_, did I?' being echoed all over the year eight and nine dorms. Owain was especially embarrassed when Francis showed him a picture of the giggly drunk version of the Welsh boy whining at Alastair, and grabbing on to his leg like a child might to his mother when she threatened to leave without him. The photo was promptly ripped up, and Owain was demanding to know if Francis had tried to pull any 'sexual acts' as he'd diplomatically phrased it while intoxicated.

At the beginning of the next week, Owain, Alastair, the two twins and Peter had all gone/ Arthur had told Alfred that usually in the second week of the holiday, each of the brothers went to stay with their fathers for a week or so (so Owain would go to Wales, while Alastair would go to Scotland, the twins in Ireland and Peter with their mother in England) and then later at about the third week in the holiday, everyone would meet up in their mother's house (where Arthur and Peter usually stayed for the first week) with Arthur and Peter's father for yet another week, only to come back to the school for two more weeks before the holidays ended. Alfred did wonder why Arthur wasn't going with the rest of them, and had chosen to stay at the school for another week before the wedding, but when he'd asked, Arthur had just blushed and started swearing.

Alfred wasn't _complaining _about the abundance of time with his best friend and now boyfriend, but it was a little weird to be around Arthur all day every day with no breaks whatsoever. Back in term time, Alfred had been able to spend equal time with Arthur and other people like Owain and Matthew, but seeing as both of them were away (Matthew was staying with his parents for a week) the American was stuck with only Arthur… and Arthur was best in small doses.

At first, Alfred had been overjoyed – the first week they'd spent 'exploring' with Feliciano and his 'The Axis Treasure-Quest Hunting Trio'. It'd been more than a little awkward with Kiku at first, but once Feliciano had accidentally overpowered the awkward atmosphere, the tension was completely erased, and even Kiku found himself smiling along with the rest of them.

After that, though, Arthur was getting a little persistent. The Brit would constantly panic about doing something wrong, and more than three times since the holidays had begun, he'd wondered up to Alfred with concerns that 'he wasn't _good_ enough for Alfred,' or 'what if I'm not the one…?' It didn't really _bother_ Alfred, but it made him wonder if Arthur was actually _happy_ with the two of them being together.

The Brit in question was also finding Alfred's constant attention more than a little in-convenient. Alfred was one of those energetic beings, that can only be calmed down with someone with just as much energy as him. That was why usually when he came back from being with Matthew and Owain (after all, the combined attention-span and energy between them was enough to match or even beat Alfred's) he was often a lot calmer, and a lot easier for Arthur to manage. Now though, he got Alfred in his organic state, and it was _a lot_ of hard work.

For instance, only the other day, Arthur had finally stolen an hour away for himself, and decided to work on yet another composition. The composition in question was actually a commission from his mother – she'd contacted him, begging him to write something in time for the wedding. Arthur hadn't been all that pleased that she'd asked him less than two weeks before the big day (after all, his compositions usually took more than a month to complete) but nevertheless, he attempted it for his mother.

Alfred had other plans though.

The American had managed to drag the Brit away from his piano stool, and convinced him not only to come to a nearby zoo with him, but also _somehow_, Arthur realised that night, to buy the tickets for them to get in, multiple ice creams, and countless soft drinks that they shared throughout the day. Arthur didn't really _mind_ paying for his and Alfred's date, but he did worry that if it continued in a similar fashion, he might soon run out of money… and what if he started to bore Alfred? _That_ was why he was feeling pretty unstable throughout the week.

Francis, being the ambassador of love, had noticed this, and begun worrying for his classmates (well… he could hardly call them _friends_) and was a little worried about them – though he'd never admit that. So, one day on a whim he told himself, he knocked on the said couple's dorm, requesting Arthur's attention.

"Now, please Alfred – you've had his attention all week! I am only asking for half an hour of his time!" Francis growled at Alfred, who was refusing to let Arthur go. The French boy really did wonder why on earth he'd bothered.

"Nooo!" The American whined, pouting, "We were just about to–!"

It was at that exact moment that Arthur emerged, blushing primly, glaring at Alfred in such a way that the boy shut up without another word, other than muttering, "He's yours…" quietly, and scampering off into his room, but of course not after kissing Arthur goodbye, and blowing multiple kisses after him.

Francis cocked an eyebrow, grinning, "You two're… close…" He chose his words _very_ carefully, "By what I can gather, you two were up to things you shouldn't have been doing at such an innocent hour, _non?_"

Arthur stayed silent for a moment, shaking his head, a slightly morbid air around him, "We weren't doing much; only kissing really."

"But… you would want to do more by the sound of things?" Francis hinted worriedly, "Come on, let's walk and talk, _oui?_"

Nodding, Arthur followed Francis away from his own doorstep, neither caring where they walked as long as their legs were moving a little. Arthur thought about his answer, "I don't know. I don't want to do anything _drastic_, that's for sure… but we're not really acting like a couple, you get me? We're acting like friends that hold hands, hug and kiss and whatever… we're acting like Owain and Alastair for God's sake. But… I don't know, there seems to be this weird tension in between us – like we both want the same thing, but we don't want to do it because we're scared… It almost feels like we're forcing ourselves together."

Francis was quite pleasantly surprised that he hadn't even had to pressure Arthur about spilling the dirt between himself and Alfred – maybe the Brit trusted him a little more than he let on… "I understand, _mon cher_… It's almost like you don't want to let the friendship between the two of you go, _non?_ Yes, I have experienced that."

"Why am I telling you this?" Arthur said, turning his head up to meet Francis' gaze, and the French boy was shocked when he saw Arthur's look of complete hopelessness, like he'd given up on all chance of ever understanding what on earth was going on. He just sounded desperate, tired, and in need of some tender love and care. Francis actually felt a little moved.

"Arthur, you're telling me because I'm listening. I think you'd tell anyone now, provided that you trust them." Francis sighed, "Come here." With that, the taller blonde leaned down and pulled Arthur into his strong grasp, giving him a tight hug and whispering kindly to him, "Thing's will work out, but they'll only work out if you realise that the both of you are young – you've barely turned thirteen, and you're already worried about stuff like this. It'll be hard to make a relationship work at your age, and I hate to tell you, but probably for a few years you'll stick around in that grey area between friends and boyfriends – you can't avoid it. But you _can_ make it better."

Arthur shook his head into Francis' shoulder, "But _how?"_

Chuckling, Francis pulled away; ruffling Arthur's hair, "Do what you did with me just then. _Talk_ to him. He may be a little immature, but he _can_ listen, can he not? He'll understand, and all the two of you need to do is understand that you both love each other very much, no matter what happens."

"W-well I wouldn't say I _loved_ him, I—" Arthur muttered awkwardly, only for Francis to cut across him.

"Arthur, don't kid yourself – you're head over heels, completely 100% smitten."

After a slight hesitation, Arthur nodded with a sigh, "You're right…"

"I told you, did I not?" Francis chuckled. The two had now reached the warm and sunny outdoors – it was so warm and sunny, most of the British students, or foreign students who came from colder countries were hiding away indoors, but for the kids from warmer European countries, for instance Antonio, Lovino and Feliciano, they were all out lapping up the sun rays like it was normal, everyday sunshine, rather than boiling hot, 30° Celsius rays. Well, to them it probably _was_ normal because of their freakishly hot homelands.

Flopping on a bench in the shade, Arthur sighed, "So what's the deal with you and Matthew?"

Francis rolled his eyes at the Brit's seating choice (he had wanted to sit in the sun and catch a tan…) "It's more than a little complicated… everything you heard about us were rumours, by the way. I was in a class with him alone because I was giving him advice about Gilbert."

"Popular you, aren't you? You're living up to that 'Ambassador of Love' title, anyway. So, why'd you 'give' yourself to him on his birthday?" Arthur cocked an eyebrow, cheering up a bit now the topic of conversation wasn't centred on his failing social life.

"Because I thought it was about time to get over Owain." Francis muttered sombrely, making no attempt of adding in any of his dry humour.

Not sure what to say, Arthur couldn't help but wince a little, "You're still… hung up on him?" He tried to speak diplomatically, though that had never been his strong point.

Francis only shook his head.

"I-I see."

"I thought that, maybe if I could _really_ accept Matthew's love rather than just playing with him, then maybe it'd be easier. After all, you've seen Owain these days; he'll never leave Alastair's side, and that does hurt to watch a little. But I though, perhaps that would make me feel good about myself for making _Matthew_ feel good about himself; after all, he's less confident than _you_. But it seems I was too late." He smiled dryly, "it seemed Gilbert has _finally_ got what he's been wanted for the past God knows how long."

"So… they're together then?" Arthur asked, a little confused.

Shaking his head, Francis smiled, "No, but I think when Gilbert gets back to school he'll have a nice surprise. In the little chat I had with Matthew, he decided that he just needed time to think things over – Gilbert's absence is rather convenient – and he said that, even if he _did_ end up dating me, he'd forever feel like I'd been forced into it. I have no doubts when I predict that Gilbert shall be the new owner of little Matthew's beating heart by the time these six weeks are over."

Struggling for words once again, Arthur weakly patted Francis on the back, "That's brave… you should be proud of yourself, Francis." The words were true – they just sounded a little mechanical.

Smiling a wry little smile, Francis sneered, "Well, you never heard of Cupid getting a partner, did you?"

Before Arthur had chance to reply, he saw the figure of Alfred bounding up behind them, running with a phone in his hand and calling Arthur's name quite frantically.

"Arthur! Arthur! I just got a text off Owain!" Arthur could _finally_ make out the boy's words as he got closer, speaking between pants, "Apparently you're dad decided to pick everyone up two days early – he's coming _tomorrow_ – we need to pack, like _now!_ I haven't even got clothes for the wedding! What the holy hell am I going to do!"

"Shit!" Arthur cursed, checking his watch and finding out he had about three hours to get everything done in – knowing his father, he'd be at the school bright and early along with the sun rise, "I haven't finished my composition! He's going to bloody _kill_ me!"

Raising an eyebrow at the undignified panic, Francis chuckled, "'We'? I didn't know you were attending the wedding, Alfred."

The American grinned, "Arthur's mom invited me!"

"Well, I can sort you out with some clothes. Arthur, if you want you can leave the packing to me, and you can do as much of that composition as you can. You can get the main body of the piece written in three hours or so if you work solidly. And besides, it's still weeks before the wedding – you can finish it off at your house, _non?_ Don't worry, I have this covered." Francis winked at the two of them, smiling his usual, sleazy smile.

"Francis, I bloody love you." Arthur said monotonously, staring up at the older blonde like he was some sort of God.

"Oh hon~ is this a rivalry I see? Alfred, be careful – I might steal your princess away from you…" Francis eyed Arthur hungrily, and just to aggravate Alfred, lifted up the Brit's slender wrist, placing a tiny kiss on the back of his hand, "It's my honour, Your Highness. Now, Alfred – lets go and try on some clothes! Maybe I'll show you how _real_ men kiss…"

"You bloody wanker!" Arthur growled, shouting after Francis, who'd already captivated a speechless Alfred, dragging the boy off to his dorm. Sighing, Arthur tried to stop a fond smile emerging on his face, but failed terribly and found that he was grinning all the way back to the music room.

**A/N**

**Ahh~ I quite like this chapter X'D it ties up loose ends~ kinda. XD Well, it ties up some ends, but makes more. XD**

**O.O I don't really know why I took so long to write this o.o" I have no idea XD recently I feel like it's been taking me ten times longer to write crappier chapters that are shorter o.o" I'm sorry if my usual standard of writing (which, admittedly, isn't that high compared with many others on here XD) has got even worse XD**

**SO! Next chapter we meet the infamous Daniel Evans – Arthur's daddy XD we might even see some of the other brother's parents yet, too XD haven't decided XD and there is a reason why all of the boys took their mother's name (which of course is Kirkland XD) and not their dad's~ it's not a mistake ^^ XD  
Oh, and a few notes about this chapter! First off, when Arthur talks about 'deciding subjects for exams' and stuff, that's basically in year nine (8th grade – that's the one with Francis' lot in XD) you choose the subjects that you plan on studying in Year 10 and 11 (Freshman and Sophomore year) and, at the end of year 11 (or sometimes year 10 if you're clever XD) you do exams called GCSEs, (General Certificate of Secondary Education) which you can put on your CV. They're like O levels, if that means anything to anyone ._." I'm sorry – I can't find an American equivalent XD I hope this makes sense and doesn't sound too patronising XD of course, British readers, you understand me! :'D  
Sorry to make this A/N so long, but I quite literally discovered something two seconds ago Q_Q and I'm so happy about it! Well, it seems are FINALLY showing you how many views you have and I was more than a little shocked to say the least! _18,151 _different people have clicked on it Q_Q jesus. X'D that makes me so happy! Even if those people didn't continue reading, I really don't care. _18,151__. _That is a figure I can't get my head around! THANK YOU SO MUCH /glomps everyone/ Q_Q thank you! And thank you to every one of you who has reviewed, as you are a little angel :') and if you've favourited, followed – whatever. Even _clicked_, I thank you, because you're only making me more confident in my writing ^^ love you all!  
Long A/N is long! :'D  
Thanks once again, everyone!**


	33. Journeys

**Chapter thirty three – Journeys**

As promised, the next morning both Arthur and Alfred were awoken by loud rasps on their dormitory door. Swearing under his breath Arthur shot out of bed at the sound of the knocks, remembering that his father had expected him 'to be ready to leave the moment he knocked on that door'. Oh _shit_.

"Alfred, _Alfred!"_ Arthur whispered harshly, shaking the American awake. The sleepy blue eyes groggily opened _very_ slowly, and if Arthur hadn't held them open, they probably would've flopped back closed again, "Listen, my dad's here – we need to get changed as quick as possible; but _be quiet_, okay?"

It seemed the half-asleep American received and understood his mission, as he rolled out of bed towards the bathroom trying very hard to stand up. Arthur was already halfway out of his pyjamas, his teeth in mid-brushing progress and a comb being wedged through his hair half-heartedly with his spare hand. Within five minutes, and a lot of assistance for Alfred, the two were _kind of_ ready – they were wearing clothes, but neither really noticed that any button that was fastened was in the wrong button hole, or that Alfred's T-shirt was on backwards.

"Now," Arthur muttered, trying to slap himself awake, "We need to sneak out of that window there, okay? We're on the ground floor, so it'll be fine, but we can't let my dad know we've been in here. We have to pretend we've been on a walk or something, okay?"

Alfred did his best to nod sleepily, but it turned into more of a roll of his head.

Smiling half-heartedly, Arthur daintily climbed towards the window, sliding it open just wide enough to let himself through, and clambered out of it, landing neatly on his feet. A few seconds later, he heard the sound of scrambling coming from the window and looked up to find Alfred's ass in his face. Chuckling slightly, Arthur averted his eyes and helped Alfred down from the windowsill. The two of them quickly made their way around the building, straightening their clothes the best they could as they went, and slipped through the main doors to the building, walking through the corridors as quickly as they could before halting to a stop at the end of their own, seeing the figure of Arthur's father and Peter beside him, both attempting to break down the door with their knocks. Neither had noticed Arthur or Alfred at the end of the corridor, tactfully hiding behind a potted plant.

"Don't let them know we've just woken up, and for God's sake put your shirt on the right way!" Arthur chuckled fondly, "and don't hint that we're… y'know… _dating_…"

At the mention of their relationship, Alfred blinked a few times, lifting his head up, "What? Why?"

Sighing awkwardly, Arthur struggled for words, "Don't take it personally or anything – I'm not ashamed of you, trust me. It's more… I'm afraid of my dad and his reaction. I'm sure you remember the many times Owain has spoken about my dad not being too happy that he was gay, and he definitely wouldn't be happy if his son was gay. I'm not going to tell him. Yet, anyway, so is that okay? Best not let my mum know either, just in case she tells him."

Understanding the importance in this, Alfred nodded, not asking any questions – he got the feeling Arthur didn't really want to talk about it. So, once his T-shirt had been rotated, the two creeped out from behind their potted plant, "Let's so this." Alfred whispered, trying to resist the urge to stand in front of Arthur in a protective way.

"Son!" Arthur's father called once he saw Arthur and Alfred, "Where the _hell_ were you? I told you I was going to be here, and that I wanted you ready! Why're you so late! It's already five minutes to five!"

Arthur tried not to wince at the figures, finally realising _just_ how early he'd been woken up, and trying not to calculate the hours of lost sleep he could be experiencing right now, "Sorry, dad! Alfred and I were… out for a walk." Peter caught his brother's eye, raising his eyebrows in a challenging way, though the boy said nothing.

"Oh, well, I suppose that's understandable. Next time if you're late I'll leave without you, alight?" The man chuckled, "At least you're finally taking my advice – a walk every morning is healthy, especially at this hour! I'm impressed that you managed to drag your roommate out with you…" The man paused, now focusing on Alfred, "Alfred Jones, I presume?"

Nodding, Alfred decided it was best not to correct the man on his middle name, "That's me, sir. Nice to meet you." He swallowed his fear, and accepted the handshake the man offered him. From all the stories he'd heard about him, Alfred had assumed Arthur's father to be a tall, scary man, with bright blonde hair and a collection of muscles that could challenge one of the many seafood shops in and around Padstow. Alfred had been very wrong, however, as Daniel Evans was pretty much average height, average build, and just looked… average. Not to mention the fact his hair was hardly bright blonde, and heading towards the grey, mousey brown area.

Alfred was _so_ glad Arthur hadn't inherited this man's looks. Arthur must take after his mother, if he was so unlike his father…

"It's great to finally meet you, Alfred. I've been very curious about what sort of person could finally make my socially retarded son crawl out from his shell. It seems it didn't take much though…" Arthur's father drawled. Alfred couldn't really understand what the man _meant_ by that, but he knew it wasn't too friendly.

"Well, seen as we've wasted so much time already, maybe we should go and get our bags?" Arthur interjected, sensing that the atmosphere was getting a little dangerous, "C'mon, Alfred. We won't be a minute, dad."

Arthur's father chuckled slightly, though it didn't sound like a chuckle, and more of a growl, "I'll come in with you, son. I want to see what your room's like, after all! I can't have you living in a tip!"

Eyes growing wide, Arthur swore mentally. Because of his father's late news of arriving early, Arthur hadn't had chance to tidy their dorm, and in its current state it looked like a hurricane had swept through it. The summer holidays had brought along with it a sense of disorganisation, and the room was by far the messiest it'd ever been, and his father would _not_ be happy, that was for sure.

Just then, there was a sound of stirring from the other end of the corridor. Arthur's father lost focus on his son's room, and was now much more interested in who could be up so early. Out of the end dorm waltzed Francis, coming out of Lovino and Antonio's apartment. The French boy glanced down the corridor, and almost doubled over at seeing Arthur father, muttering something urgently to the people behind the door, as if trying to hide them.

"Francis! Why're you up so early? It's good to see you, my boy." Arthur's father began walking over to meet the French boy. Alfred exchanged glances with Arthur, wanting to know how the _hell_ Francis knew his dad, but Arthur just shook his head, and slipped inside his room while his father wasn't looking, returning soon after with their suitcases in his hands.

"Nice one!" Alfred breathed, giving Arthur thumbs up before returning to eavesdrop on Francis.

Francis looked very, very guilty at the current moment and like he'd very much like to escape, "A-ah, _bonjour_, Mr. Kirkland, i-it's a pleasure to see you again! I was just… taking a walk."

Arthur groaned at the fact the boy used exactly the same excuse he'd used.

"Fantastic! It seems Arthur's little habits are catching on! Now, who's in there?" Arthur's father pointed to the door, eying the French boy curiously, "Who're you hiding?"

Blinking rapidly, Francis met Arthur's eyes, begging for help – for whatever reason, it'd probably be best that Arthur's father didn't discover who was hidden behind the door, "Sir? I don't understand, I'm sorry."

"Aww, I'm _terribly_ sorry, my boy, I forgot you French were a little messed up in the head. Show me who's behind the door, or explain why you were whispering to solid wood." The dangerous tone had returned in the man's voice.

Arthur decided now was a better time than any to sweep in and assist, "Dad, won't mum be worrying where we are? We'd best be going. Don't listen to Francis – he's just an idiot, like you said." Arthur met Francis' eyes, assuring the French boy that he was merely acting. Though Francis _was_ an idiot, there was no need for racism.

"Don't be stupid, Arthur, your mother's not expecting us back until around five o'clock tonight! We're going to pick up your brothers, too, as much as I want to avoid the contaminated freaks…"

"How can you talk like that about your own _family? _That's fucked up." A new voice joined. Arthur spun around, panicking, begging that it wasn't Alfred who'd said it. Luckily the American was equally clueless as to the source of the voice. Francis however looked very guilty, though his mouth wasn't moving as the voice spoke again; "Francis, get out of the fucking _way!"_

With that, both Alfred and Arthur caught on to what was happening, and recognised the voice. Sharing a mental groan, their suspicions were confirmed as out of the door that Francis had previously been leaning heavily against, walked out Lovino and Antonio, stony faced and looking very pissed. Francis had been clever – he knew that neither Antonio had never met Arthur's father before, and would probably be naïve enough to believe that Arthur's father would happily accept he and Lovino as a couple. Of course, this would never happen, but 'sexual contact' between the two was almost guaranteed.

"Oh? You think so, Lovino?" Arthur's father raised an eyebrow, "Well, you see I'd prefer it that _my _son didn't turn into a brainless fag like any of his brothers, or any of his brother's friends, for that matter."

Growling, Lovino was very ready to yap back, but Antonio, who was unusually aware of what was going on swept in, looking _very_ pissed off. "Are you trying to imply that being a 'brainless fag' is a bad thing, sir?" Francis groaned. This is _exactly_ what he'd been trying to avoid.

The man glared down at Antonio, letting a dark chuckle pass his lips, "I don't think I'm _implying_ anything, boy. I made it quite clear that fags are freaks of nature, all of which should be slowly tortured to death. My step-sons included family or no family. Do you have a _problem_ with that? Unless, are you included in that population of brainless fags? It wouldn't surprise me, seeing as you're _ever_ so close to Lovino and Francis, by the look of things." Arthur, Alfred, Francis, Antonio and Lovino all tensed up slightly at the thought of being tortured to death for their interest in the same sex. _Now _Alfred understood why Arthur's father could never find out about his sexuality.

Antonio, despite his fear, was not backing down. He looked raring to go, and like he'd happily shout the place down if that's what it came to. Luckily for him, Francis and Lovino were previous acquaintances of Arthur's father, and knew that if the Spaniard got involved with the man, he'd likely never get out of it before getting very hurt.

"Toni, shut up, seriously." Lovino muttered furiously, feeling slightly panicked, "None of us like it, but you just have to go along with what he says. He had connections, so just shut the _fuck_ up. I messed up before; I should've kept quiet, but I let my anger get the better of me, but you're more controlled than me, right? Just walk away – walk away for me."

Grudgingly, Antonio gritted his teeth once more, glaring at Lovino, "No. I'm not going to let him say stuff like that! We haven't experienced shit with homophobic because of our… supportive environment, but we'll need to learn how to stick up for ourselves soon enough, and this is ideal practice. But that's beside the point – I'm not having him insult us like that! I will not be treated like an animal just because I love you!"

"Freaks. I feel sorry for your parents, Lovino, having to deal with _two_ of you. Your dad has the right idea about you gays – throw things at them if they come within twenty metres of you. He probably would try to shoot 'em if your mother would stop being such a protective slut over you and your pathetic excuse for a brother." The man spat, reeling away at the contact and words of adoration for Lovino Antonio had begun muttering to try and calm him down with. Lovino was now the one who needed to be held back. Luckily Francis took it upon himself to trap the Italian's arms behind his back, letting only verbal attacks fly at Arthur's father, which he only laughed at.

"Dad, we really need to go." Arthur muttered, sending apologetic glances at Francis, Lovino and Antonio, "Please?"

"Be quiet, Arthur." His father snapped, glaring at the boy.

Peter was watching this scenario with wide eyes, not sure if he should say anything. He stuck by his words that his father was the greatest man alive, no matter what he said, but… something about him right now made Peter wonder, and also made him a tiny bit scared. Yes, he'd heard the man say many a 'terrible' thing about Owain and the others, and how he'd insulted homosexuals, swearing at them every time he passed one. But Peter _knew_ Antonio and Lovino. Little did many people know, over the past few weeks, the little English boy had got quite attached to the Italian and the Spaniard. Yes, they were gay, and yes that was weird and wrong, but apart from that, the boys _were_ very nice. An awful lot nicer than _Arthur_ anyway. Peter didn't think that Antonio or Lovino was a lot different from anyone else… and he _definitely _didn't think that they deserved to be being shouted at by his dad. Of course, he might've been wrong, but he didn't like the way Alfred (again, not a lot of people knew that Peter secretly idolised the American) was reacting – and of course that reaction was badly.

"D-Dad, _please_ can we go." Peter piped up. His father growled yet again, turning to Arthur to tell him to shut up, before he realised that Peter was the one who ushered the request. Staring oddly at his favourite son, a little confused at his request, Daniel decided that he didn't have much choice but to nod – how could he turn down a request by adorable little Peter?

Turning around once more, Daniel glowered at the three boys, "You stay the fuck away from both of my sons; if I hear you've even _touched_ him, I'll make sure you're expelled and then brutally punished. Physically. Fuck off." He turned curtly, grabbing Peter's hand and yanking the boy along with him, calling for Arthur to hurry up in between mutters about 'fucking faggots'.

Wincing, Arthur frantically began apologising to Antonio and Lovino, beginning to feel very guilty about his father's behaviour, and that he really didn't mind any of them touching him.

"Yeah, because you'd _like_ that, wouldn't you, Arthur?" Francis drawled, a grin on his face to show his intended joke, "Don't worry about your father – it is he who should be apologising, not you. Good luck, and you too, Alfred. You'll definitely need it." Antonio smiled cheerfully, nodding, as Lovino just stared at the ground, swearing.

"But how do you _know_ him?" Alfred begged for the answer, waving his arms about. No one answered his question, other than Arthur who just smiled patronisingly, saying that he'd tell him later.

* * *

'Later' was a very long time, it seemed.

Alfred had discovered that the UK wasn't as small as he'd originally thought it to have been. He thought you could drive from one side of the country to the other in about two hours, and any longer you'd be driving in the sea. He was wrong, and according to Arthur, they had a ten hour drive in front of them. Brilliant. Apparently they were to drive five hours from Padstow to Llangollen (Alfred had _no_ idea how to pronounce such an off word) which was a small town in the North of Wales, where both Owain and Alastair were gloomily awaiting to be picked up. After a stop for lunch (that would be awkward…) they would have to drive to Liverpool Airport, which would take an hour, to pick up the twins who were to be getting off their plane from Belfast International Airport in Ireland about that time. After that, there'd be a four hour drive down to the countryside to the east of London, where Arthur's house was.

Not only did he have to spend the day in a cooped up little car with a man he hardly knew, a boy he was in love with, and a boy he absolutely despised, there was the small fact that Arthur's father was homophobic, and Alfred was dating his son. It seemed without saying anything, all ready Daniel had decided that he didn't like Alfred, just because he was an atheist American (apparently Arthur wrote letters to his mother, and his mother must've read them aloud to her soon-to-be-husband.)

"So, Alfred." Daniel attempted to break the silence about an hour into the drive. Looking up wearily to meet the man's eyes in the wing mirror, Alfred nodded curiously, "How'd you do it?"

"I'm sorry, do what, sir?" Alfred spoke as politely as he could. If he ever decided to come out the closet one day, it would be better to be on this man's good side.

"Convince my freak of a son to make a friend." Daniel responded nonchalantly, not even looking at Arthur, "It must've taken quite a bit of effort. I must say, when Ivy reads aloud the many millions of letters she's received from Arthur about you, he made it sound like you were something a little special. Obviously my son is deluded as well as socially challenged."

Trying not to wince at his words, Alfred kept a straight face, remembering that 'Ivy' was in fact Arthur's mother. "Well, sir, if you don't mind me saying, I didn't think it was very hard to make friends with Arthur. Perhaps it's because we were paired in a room together." Alfred stole a glance at Arthur in the seat next to him, who was secretly sending him a thumb up. Obviously Alfred was doing _something_ right.

"Oh, fancy yourself as a bit of a hero, do we? You want to make the world a better place with your great ideas of justice? What a load of shit; that only happens in Batman movies, you blockhead." Daniel sneered, a mocking grin on his face.

"Well, I don't see it as a bad, image, sir. But I agree with you; that stuff only happens in movies, thought it'd be nice if it happened in real life too." Alfred tried to keep his voice level.

Nodding in approval, Daniel wasn't able to pick a hole in his words at that. Instead, he decided to ask the question that ensured Alfred stayed safe and warm inside the car, rather than being thrown out the window of the car, "Okay, Alfred; what's your sexual preference? You're not a faggot, too, are you? Because I'm sure you know of my feelings towards that race of animalised freaks."

Damn it, that'd trapped him. Alfred hesitated for a moment, knowing that it would be better to lie than to end up shunned by the man, and probably abused while he had the chance, "No, sir. I'm not." He sent Arthur an apologetic gaze, but the Brit just smiled, giving him another pair of thumbs up.

"Good, good. I'm beginning to believe that my original judgement on you was a little wrong, boy. I may not despise all Americans as I originally believed I did. Maybe there's a little more than burgers in your mind." Truth be told, Arthur's father would probably warm up to an evil mass murder if he said he was a homophobic as well.

And after that, there was silence for another four and a half hours. Alfred planned on sleeping a little, as Arthur was, but the moment the American closed his eyes, he felt incredibly vulnerable, and felt like Daniel was watching him from the wing mirror. For that reason, Alfred stayed as alert as a baby deer, and ended up gazing out of the window, wondering what it was like out the Welsh countryside they were now passing.

Five minutes later, the car came to a stop at the end of cute little driveway. At the end of the driveway was a cute little flower patch, which surrounded a little patch of grass and the cutest of little fairy-tale cottages Alfred had ever seen. It just figured that Owain would live in a place like this, the American grinned.

"Arthur, wake up, idiot. Go and get the boys, and go and get the food Dafydd's made us, bring it out here and we can be off. Hurry it up. Alfred, if you so desire then you can go with him too." Daniel spat, obviously not looking forward to eat something with 'faggot germs' on. Dafydd, Alfred could only assume, was Owain's father.

The boys climbed out of the car, walking briskly up the drive. Both the boys were more than pleased to escape the crushing atmosphere of the car, and were grinning at each other like idiots.

"Man, your old man's intense." Alfred shuddered, eyes widening as he grinned at Arthur.

"Tell me about it. He seriously pisses me off." Arthur growled, but then burst into fits of giggles along with Alfred for no apparent reason.

Before they had chance to knock on the baby pink door of the cottage, it was opened, and out flew Owain, attacking both Alfred and Alfred in one bone-crushing up, tackling them both to the floor. Spluttering with surprise, this made Alfred and Arthur laugh even more, so when Alastair and Dafydd walked out to see what the commotion was about, it made _them_ chuckled. Before anyone knew it, all five of them were giggling like girls – even Alastair, and not a single one knew why. They just knew they were quite happy where they were, and didn't want to look back down the drive, where Daniel was inevitably swearing at how long Arthur was taking from the safety of his car.

Once Alfred and Arthur had been helped to their feet, they were promptly hugged by Dafydd, which was a surprise for Alfred, as he'd never met the man before, and invited in for some tea. Of course, stalling as much as he possibly could, Arthur happily accepted the invitation, and followed a perky Owain and sulking Alastair through the hall to the quaint little kitchen. Alfred had no choice to follow, so, ducking his head under the low door, he tip-toed through the tiny hallway, afraid to knock over any of the expensive looking pots that cluttered the space randomly, or knock off any of the elegant picture frames off the wall, all of which ere pictures of the Kirkland brothers. Apart from one, Alfred noticed, with a man, Dafydd he guessed, and a woman. She was very young, blonde and pretty… apart from her gigantic eyebrows. Alfred grinned; that must be the infamous Ivy Kirkland, Arthur's mother.

The kitchen Alfred had been lead to was exactly what you'd expect Snow White's cottage to look like. There was a single, little table with as many chairs crammed around it as possible. It looked like the chairs had all been originally identical, but when broken, rather than replaced, they'd been repaired with other legs and parts of furniture. The table was covered with old, chipped cups with pools of stony cold, old tea rotting in them. The table was surrounded by a tiny little stove that looked like it had a little area for you to light a fire in, three cupboards, a sink and about the only modern-looking thing in the whole kitchen, a fridge.

Alfred liked this place, he decided. He liked it a lot.

"Tea or coffee, Alfred?" Dafydd called over from the kettle, using Alfred's first name despite the fact they'd never been introduced. Alfred didn't care – if anything he was so glad at how casual Dafydd was. Now he understood why Owain was like he was.

"Coffee, please, Dafydd!" Alfred smiled, wondering over to the table, where Owain was helping Arthur to a seat, and picking one for himself (no one mentioned the fact it was the one right next to Alastair, despite the lack of space) all of the brothers were smiling, seeming relieved to see each other after almost two weeks apart. Alfred smiled to himself, even though they acted all big and tough, and like they didn't give a damn about each other (of course, with the exception of Owain) but really they couldn't live without one another.

Dafydd then came wondering over, a smile on his face as he set down five mugs (he was experienced to hold _five_ mugs at once) and handed one to each boy. Dafydd was one of those guys that looked like they always wanted to be a mother rather than a father. He looked manly enough, but his smile wasn't a boyish grin, it was a warm, supportive, motherly smile. His hair was an odd, auburn colour that was neither blonde nor red. He had light stubble growing on his chin, and seemed to be developing a bit of a beer-belly in his older age, though Alfred could tell that 'back in the day', he would've looked handsome enough.

"Now, boys, tell me," He addressed Alfred and Arthur, happily, "How is your relationship going, dears?"

Arthur nearly spat out his tea everywhere, "you _told_ him! What if he tells mum! You said you wouldn't tell anyone!" He screeched frantically at his grinning brothers. Dafydd frowned jokily.

"Aww, c'mon, you know I won't tell! Daniel would have your guts for garters, Alfred. He'd sought out 'the boy that made his son gay' and kill him no matter what it took, after all! I'm sure you've learnt that after a five hour car drive with him." Dafydd sighed, gritting his teeth, "That man will be the death of us all… But back to the original question, dears – are you enjoying yourselves?"

Arthur simply pouted, turning his nose up at the beaming man. Alfred decided to have a little fun, and winked at Dafydd, then turned down to Arthur, grinning, "C'mere, Artie, you love me, don't you?" And, not letting the Brit reply, Alfred claimed his lips right there in front of everyone, giving him quite a passionate kiss. No one really seemed to mind, however, and by the end of the kiss, Owain and Dafydd were both cooing at how cute it was, while Alastair had a smug little grin on his face.

"What're you doing!" Arthur was burning, wiping his mouth furiously and sipping tea at an alarming rate.

"Well, we won't be able to do it when Daniel's around, will we?" Alfred grinned, "Now's our last chance to do it, unless you want to sneak around~" Alfred said, now enjoying himself a little too much. With a grin and a ruffle of Arthur's hair, the American turned to Dafydd, "We're doing great, thank you for asking."

Smiling fondly, Dafydd nodded happily, "Good, good, my dears! Now, what instructions did Daniel give you?"

"'Get food. Get boys. Get out'" Arthur summed up, "Of course we're being 'rebels' and disobeying him." Arthur's grin was wickedly mischievous.

Owain stuck out his bottom lip, "That bastard! Taking your food and just _leaving?_ Arthur, will you come with me to tell him that if he wants food he'll have to come inside and eat it."

Dafydd shook his head, "No, Owain, I want you to stay away from him for as long as possible, and I don't want him in a bad mood with you already. Remember, he made a promise with your mother that he wouldn't lay a finger on you, but that doesn't mean that he won't say things. You too, Alastair, Alfred, Arthur. I'll go and have a word with him."

A few minutes later, Dafydd returned, looking a little flushed in the face, but smiling nonetheless, "There we go! All sorted, you're eating lunch in here. I wouldn't be surprised if he stops off at a petrol station later, seeing as I refused to give him any of my 'faggot food' as he called it."

"Bastard…" Came the chorus of Alastair and Arthur.

"We've got two bloody weeks with him… How am I going to _survive?_ Can I not just stay with you, Dafydd?" Alastair added, resting his head in his arms.

"Because, dear, your mother misses you. Don't worry, that house down in London is big, and there's land all around. There are many spots where you can do things you wouldn't want to be seen by certain homophobes." Dafydd's grin made Arthur blush a little at his suggestive words, and, once Alfred realised what the Welshman was talking about, shared the same grin as the man.

"Now, who wants ham on their sandwiches?" Dafydd smiled warmly, standing up to begin slicing some homemade bread.

* * *

Half an hour later, Peter's stomach was growling, and Daniel was swearing with annoyance.

"That fucking faggot – he's going to make me fucking late for those gypsies's fight… Then that'll get Ivy pissed at me. Why the fuck to we even _have_ to be nice to such faggots? Bastard…" The stream of random words continued, until finally he saw the sick, pink door swing open and out waltzed a very happy looking group of Alastair, Arthur, Alfred, Owain and Dafydd. Daniel was not amused.

Winding down the window, the Englishman began shouting at the Welshman, "You idiot! How long did you plan on taking? Thanks for messing up my whole fucking schedule, you fucking faggot!"

Dafydd found it very amusing to reply in Welsh to the offensive man. This annoyed Daniel further, and he began shouting and swearing even louder as Dafydd just stood there, smiling and calmly replying in Welsh.

Meanwhile, Alfred and Arthur were helping Alastair and Owain shove their stuff in the boot of the car, grinning at Dafydd's epic trolling skills. Owain was very proud of his dad, so proud even, when Daniel wasn't looking, the Welsh boy leaned over to Alastair, hugging him quickly and giving him a little peck on the cheek. He wasn't sure why that had to do with feeling _proud,_ but hey, whatever.

"Well then, shall we try and endure a terrible car ride?" Arthur muttered, climbing into the back next to Alfred.

"I'll endure as much as I can before I turn insane…" Alastair grumbled, climbing in behind Arthur and Alfred, letting Owain snuggle in close to him, "Well, good luck everyone; try not to explode. At least the twins will cheer us up when they arrive…"

"Optimism! That's what we need to survive!" Owain concluded with a smile.

From the front seat, Peter turned around curiously, wishing he could be a part of the group with his brothers, but knew deep down that because he believed in his father, the four of them would never really accept him.

Next to him, his father was swearing hotly at the odd man, Dafydd who was speaking words that Peter couldn't understand. The only thing he _did_ understand was when the man leaned down and whispered very quietly:

"And if you lay a fucking finger on my son again, or _any_ of those boys, I will make sure I fucking kill you, no matter what Ivy does to me. You may think 'faggots' are the weaker side of the population, but if you piss us off, then you're screwed."

Peter had never heard that man swear before, and he had a feeling he wouldn't again. He'd also never seen his father speechless before, either, and he had a feeling that he'd never see that in a long time, too. Sighing, Peter decided that he must be 'too young to understand', as most people usually told him.

**A/N**

**Sorry that took a while XDD but hey, four days, and my summer holidays are here! :D LOTS OF UPDATES XD  
So here we meet Dafydd and Daniel D: /does not like Daniel/ XD but we'll hear more about them in future chapters, and FYI, it hasn't been officially said, but Dafydd is gay, just like his son XD and he has a soft spot for Alastair ^^  
I'm sorry if these guys get annoying ^^" they're sort of essential to move the storyline along XD I try to include as little OCs as possible (I know it doesn't seem like it XD) and I hope they don't get too annoying XD but there will be promised USUK moments!**

**And I'm sorry that some of you didn't understand my previous A/N, and I know this sounds terrible both as a writer and a person, but that's the best way I can describe the schooling system ^^" so all I can say, is go with the flow XD pleasedon'thateme XD  
Oh! And you will find out how Lovi and Francis know Daniel. :P You'll also find out quite a bit about Ivy! XD  
Thank you for reviews! They are love :D Please click that little button ^^ and thank you if you've reviewed in the past!  
Over and out, amigos.**


	34. Family

**Chapter thirty four – Family**

Ivy Kirkland was sitting at home, moping around. It was only five in the afternoon and she already felt like lighting a fire, watching an old film, and falling asleep whenever her eyes couldn't stop from dropping closed. But no, Ivy had many things to do, she sighed to herself. It'd be nice to see her sons again, but she was worried about them. Well, more worried about how her soon-to-be husband would act around her little dears.

That was right, she thought – in a few weeks, she'd be having her fourth marriage. Now her name would be Ivy McAllen- Quince -Williams-Evans-Kirkland. Jesus, she needed to change her name. Her father had insisted as his dying wish that Ivy was always to keep her last name as 'Kirkland', no matter who she married, as she was an only child, and the only one to keep the Kirkland name running – her father had been quite uptight about things like that. And so she'd taken every name of her ex-husband before her own. A lot of people asked her that, when they divorced, why didn't the name go too? After all, that was the norm, no? She always answered with the practiced lines of 'my mistakes make me the woman I am today'. No one really knew what she meant by saying that – even Ivy herself didn't really know.

Well, she did _know_, she just didn't want to admit it to herself. It was that she didn't want to forget about her ex-husbands, because a part of her still loved every single one of them. If she had the choice to, she would have stayed with them, but 'issues' had driven her away from every single one of them. Perhaps it'd work again with Daniel…

But then there _was_ the slight issue that he was a bit of a dick to her kids… That was one thing about her fiancé Ivy couldn't stand – his hatred towards his new family, and his disgust towards homosexuals. Ivy sighed to herself – _she'd_ never had an issue with Owain's sexuality, or the fact that Alastair shagged whatever he felt like, or the fact that Arthur was so socially awkward it hurt, but for some reason it bothered to _Daniel_.

And speak of the devil, as just as Ivy decided that she was going to light a fire, there was a sharp rasp on the door, and a chorus of voices, both dropped, mature ones and girly, unbroken ones were twittering outside the door. Ivy couldn't keep the grin off her face – her boys were waiting for her outside that very door. She'd missed her sons _so_ much, and now she'd get to see _all_ of them at once, with the addition of the charming-sounding Alfred, who seemed to be the perfect best friend for Arthur.

"I'm coming!" Ivy called happily, running through the halls, and pulling open the set of double doors, almost collapsing when she let her eyes fall on the perfect vision of all of her sons, all smiling up at her.

"Mum!" They shouted all at once, all of their voices sounding a little husky like they might be close to tears. A second later, Ivy was being tackled to the floor by six strong bodies all attempting to hug her at once. Chuckling, Ivy did her best to throw her arms around all of them at once, not caring that her arms wouldn't let her stretch that far.

"I've missed you, my babies!" She sniffed, cradling them, using her favourite plural nickname for her sons, "And no more growing, or I'll have to put a brick on your heads so you stop! Peter, even _you're_ nearly as big as me now!" Though that wasn't an impressive feat, as Ivy wasn't exactly your seven foot tall rugby player.

Once everyone had straightened up to their full height, greetings had been made, and Alfred was introduced, Ivy invited everyone inside for some tea, asking Daniel to take everyone's luggage up to their rooms, which he agreed to grudgingly. All of the boys seemed to be pretty pleased to get Daniel off their backs, and although Ivy loved her fiancé as much as her sons, she wanted to have some time with them one-to-one, rather than letting Daniel and his snide, offensive words ruin it.

"So, everybody, how have you all been? I haven't seen you all for an entire year! What's gone on?" Ivy clapped her hands together, smiling as she met everyone's eyes. Each boy looked hesitant, probably censoring the many stories of their school lives before spewing them out to their _mother_. Ivy had been young once too, and you can't kid a kidder.

Nervously sipping on his tea, Owain was first to speak, "Me and Francis broke up."

"Aww, Owain! That's too bad, sweetie," Ivy pulled her son into a warm hug, rubbing his arm a little awkwardly, "is everything okay? Do you want to talk about it?"

Shaking his head, the Welsh boy smiled reassuringly at his mother, "No, no, I'm fine – it was a while ago, anyway. I got over it ages back. Of course, Alastair and the others helped me a load." He shot a thankful grin at his brothers, "It happened just after my last visit last Easter… When Daniel found out… about me and my… 'Interests'."

Wincing slightly, Ivy frowned, "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, sweetie. You didn't break up with him _because_ of Daniel's reaction, did you?"

"Oh, no, no! Nothing as shallow as that, don't worry." Owain smiled, nodding reassuringly, returning to his tea, "but I'm not the only one who's been in and out of relationships." He eyes Alastair sneakily.

Glaring at the Welsh boy, Alastair snapped off the end of a biscuit, crunching it with his strong jaw, "Elizabeth and I broke up. Then got back together again. Then broke up again. Then she proposed. I said no. End story."

A little taken aback by Alastair's rather nonchalant, monotonous step-by-step tales of what had happened between him and Elizabeth, Ivy just stared at her son, "She _proposed?_ Jesus… those girls get more desperate by the second…"

No one was cruel enough to mention that Ivy _was_ the only one in the room with three failed marriages, and probably yet another doomed one.

"So… you don't want to talk about it?" Ivy hinted, obviously wanting to know more, but with Alastair's definite shake of the head, Ivy knew that she'd never get anything out of him. She just hoped poor Elizabeth hadn't been too upset about things.

There was more than a little awkward silence for a moment.

"Shane, Colin, how about you? Any girls on the scene?" Ivy smiled at her sons, and then quickly added, "Or boys, of course…"

Sighing, Colin answered for the two of them, "We're still as desperate as ever. And we are straight, for your information. But do you _really_ think we'd tell you if one of us was gay after what happened to Owain?" neither of them had been put in a good mood after Daniel's torture on the car journey home, and they were pretty pissed that their own mother wouldn't stick up for them if Daniel started picking on them.

"Come on, Col…" Ivy begged – she was the only one other than the twins who could tell them apart, "you know I don't _want_ Daniel to say that stuff. I've had words with him, but he just won't listen."

Shane looked like he was about to take over Colin's argument for a moment, and Colin looked like he really wanted to argue back, but for whatever reason, both of them shut up, "Fine, whatever – we don't want to talk about it." Colin spoke for the both of them, "We're going to unpack."

Desperately watching the twins all but storm out of the room, and wincing when the door was slammed behind them, Ivy sighed, staring into her tea. Why was she such a terrible mother?

"Don't worry, mum. They'll come round, yeah? And you know, it's not you they're angry at – it's Daniel." Owain smiled, patting his mother on her back.

She shook her head desperately, "I'm sorry, all of you… and oh god, Alfred you must think I'm the worst mother in the world! I'm sorry – I haven't seen you all in so long, and I let my emotions get a hold of me. How about you all go upstairs and pack? I'll make sure there's some food ready for you when you get back down. Hopefully I won't be such a wreck. Go on," she smiled tearfully, standing up and opening the door for them, "Have fun, boys. Alfred, I hop you don't mind, but you'll have to share a room with Arthur, is that okay?"

Blinking a few times, and exchanging a glance with Arthur, Alfred finally smiled, "That's no problem at all, Miss. Kirkland. Thank you for having me!"

* * *

Alfred was more than a little overwhelmed.

He'd only just arrived at the Kirkland's house, and had already been bombarded with an awful lot of information. The first and probably most obvious was that to call the Kirkland's house a 'house' might be a bit of an understatement. Their 'house' was absolutely gigantic. It only made sense, of course, as most of the pupils at Goverek school were in the upper-class population, and Arthur should be no exception. Plus, with six children, Ivy and Daniel would need a pretty spacey place.

From what Alfred had seen of the place so far, there were five bedrooms – one Alfred and Arthur would share, one the twins stayed in, one for Owain and Alastair, Peter's own room, and Ivy and Daniel's room. There was an en-suite bathroom to each of these, along with a spacious bathroom on all three floors. The kitchen was stupidly big, and there were two dining rooms, one downstairs and one on the middle floor. Apparently there was a room dedicated only to their large collection of musical instruments, a library and three living rooms to add to the abundance of rooms, and Alfred wasn't even sure if that was all of it. The place was _huge_.

And on top of this, he finally understood why the Kirklands were so weary of their parents. Ivy seemed nice enough, but as she'd clearly demonstrated, she wasn't really mother material. She was kind, but she was young – not _really_ young, but not old; thirty at the oldest. She obviously had terrible confidence issues with managing her sons, and more than anything Alfred pitied her. He didn't dislike her, but he wasn't too happy for her pretty much _watching_ as Daniel practically abused her sons in front of her.

Daniel was a whole different issue.

_That man!_ Just hearing his name made Alfred seriously want to punch something – and preferably that something would be Daniel's face. The way he'd spoken to Lovino, Francis, Arthur, Owain… hell _everyone_ he'd spoken to he'd said something offensive to, even his dear little Peter. But the worrying thing was that Arthur seemed to be heavily hinting that Daniel was in a rather pleasant mood, as if implying that he could be _a lot_ worse.

_Man_ if Alfred was a little bigger… maybe he should call Ludwig and Gilbert to help him beat the guy up…

"Alfred, as adorable as you look when you have that gormless expression on, I'd appreciate it if you'd help me unpack _your_ things." Arthur whispered, breaking Alfred from his little trance. The Brit smiled bashfully when he realised he'd called Alfred ;adorable' out loud, and seemed more than a little pleased with himself that he'd finally been able to speak his mind.

"Sorry, Artie~ you just take up all of my fantasies…" Alfred winked saucily, "You're irresistible."

Blinking and darting his eyes away, Arthur pretended to be very interested in sorting out Alfred's unfolded clothed, "Shh, if my dad hears us we'll be dead. Literally. And even _Alastair_ can't beat him in a fight."

Ruffling the blonde hair of his boyfriend, Alfred smiled apologetically, "Sorry, babes… but I'll just have to do something so that I don't drive myself insane."

Blushing brightly, Arthur turned his head, questioning Alfred. The American leaned down and pecked the boy on the lips very quickly, and as if nothing had happened just carried on unpacking his suitcase. Arthur, shaking slightly continued with the job of folding the clothes, making sure to avoid Alfred's gaze, but still smiling a little.

Five minutes later there was a knock on the door, and none other than Daniel waltzed through, glaring at how close the boys were, "Dinner's ready, and it's getting cold."

"We'll be down now." Arthur flashed a fake smile, but whenever he turned back he was sneering.

Daniel didn't question his son's tone for some reason, but seemed more concentrated on the odd smirk Alfred was wearing. He couldn't help but feel like he was missing something painfully obvious, and that Arthur and Alfred knew _exactly_ what was going on. Well, he'd have to change that by the end of their stay here…

Back downstairs, Ivy was serving her legendary roast dinner – the tenderest chicken for miles in all directions, revolutionary gravy, and vegetables grown in their own garden. She knew this was the greatest weakness of all of her sons, and this would most definitely put them in a good mood. Hopefully it'd put a smile on Alfred's face, too.

"Oh god. Am I dreaming?" Alastair entered the room, his nose at work, clearly remembering the unique smell of his mother's food, "It's been a whole year since I've had a roast! Oh Jesus I'm in heaven." He floated to his seat, closely followed by a blissful Owain.

Next to come down the stairs were Arthur and Alfred, and both of them knew that they would be eating until their stomachs could hold no more. Even Alfred, who was extremely weary of British cooking, could tell that he would enjoy himself. Soon enough the twins had moodily taken their seats, never once letting their gazes falter from glaring at Daniel, until their mother dished out two huge plates in front of them. After that, it seemed their bad moods had been dissolved quite effectively by the amazing food. It was only when Ivy came to sit down for herself, she realised someone was missing.

"Where's Peter?" She said, suddenly missing the endless babble that her youngest always bothered her with during meals.

"He said he wanted to explore." Daniel commented nonchalantly, returning to his meal.

"'Explore'? That doesn't really cover it, Daniel!" Ivy stood up frantically. Apparently this was quite a rare sight, as all of the Kirkland brothers lifted their heads up, pausing their chewing to watch what was going on, "you're saying you just let him waltz out of the door? Not checking where he was going? What time he would get back? Daniel, do you call yourself a parent!"

Daniel looked a little shell-shocked, "Don't talk to me like that!"

"Well don't go loosing our _son!_ Sometimes I really do wonder if you understand the meaning of the word 'son', or 'family'! It means you love them, and you don't insult them at every possible moment – you value them, and you don't call them 'faggots' or 'gypsies', and you most definitely do not insult my ex-husbands like you have been doing the past few years!"

All of the boys had completely forgotten their food by this point. Could this be the revolution they'd been waiting for? The moment their mother _finally_ stood up for them?

"_These boys_ are not my family! I share no blood with them, and Arthur had practically disowned me as a father. Why should I care about them if they just want me to fling myself off a bridge?" Daniel shot back.

"Well, we were thinking something a little more painful than that, but at least you get the picture." Shane snarled quietly. The adults paid no attention to him.

Ivy stared at Daniel, taken a back, "Do you realise how childish you sound! _Children_ say things like that; that happens on the playground! You don't hate someone because they hate you! You have to have a reason to dislike someone, let alone hate them, and these boys," She gestured to her sons, "are just that – _boys_. They don't know about the world; they're _allowed_ to act like that; they're meant to! But you, you need to wise up, and act like a man they might want to look up to. Can't do that, then the wedding's off. Go and find Peter right now."

Everyone stared at Ivy, nearly doubling over in shock at the woman's sudden power.

"Fine." Daniel growled, storming out of the door.

Once the wood slammed shut, confirming that Daniel was no longer amongst them, Ivy slumped back in her seat, limbs shaking slightly. Having no choice but to stare in wonder at the woman who was their mother, every son smiled to themselves, knowing that _finally_ something was happening in their justice. Even Alfred, who was very confused by the whole situation couldn't help but grin (and came very close to throwing his arms around Arthur) and knew that if things continued the way they were going, he might be able to reveal his relationship status with Arthur to Ivy.

* * *

Peter was found later and dragged back home by a very annoyed Daniel. It was getting towards nine o'clock at night, as Arthur and Alfred were just sitting down in one of the oversized living rooms with Owain to watch 'Shrek' that was playing on the TV. The boys had decided that re-visiting their favourite childhood movie might cheer them up a bit, as the mood had kind of been killed when Ivy had begun crying not long after Daniel had left. She'd fled up to her room, wailing about how she'd muck up this marriage as well with only Alastair as comfort beside her. The Scottish boy really did care about his mother, and it upset him to see her in such a state.

Just as the opening credits for the movie had begun, there was a soft knock at the door, and Colin popped his head through, "Alfred, Alastair wants a word with you upstairs. I have no idea what it's about, before you ask." With that, the Irish boy, followed by his twin flopped down on to one of the leather sofas beside Owain, rolling their eyes when they realised what was playing on the TV.

A little confused, Alfred sent Arthur a weary look. The Brit smiled reassuringly, nodding, as if telling Alfred that it'd all be fine, but nevertheless he didn't leave his seat (he didn't want to miss any of the movie, after all) and let Alfred find his own way up the stairs.

Luckily, Alastair was waiting for him at the top, not giving the American a chance to get lost along the way. Sighing with relief when he saw the small figure of Alfred bobbing nervously up the stairs, Alastair smiled in greeting.

"Mum needs to see you." Was all he said, and with that, disappeared off down the stairs, muttering something about needing a cool drink.

Standing in the middle of the landing, Alfred slapped his hand to his forehead, dragging it slowly down his face in frustration. Alastair's instructions weren't the best – he had no idea what Ivy wanted, _why_ she wanted him, what she was going to talk about – hell he didn't even know where to go looking for her!

… Well… he _had _been looking for an excuse to explore the place…

That settled it then; Alfred would have to look for her! And along the way, he could see what sort of a house Arthur had grown up in.

The first door he checked lead into Peter's room. It was an awful lot larger than the room he was sharing with Arthur, and full of expensive looking furniture, and all the electrical appliances that you could ever need. Suddenly, Alfred realised that it was kind of like '_Animal Farm'_ that they'd been studying in English – the people that supported communism were left alone, while the ones that tried to rebel were killed. While in this case, Peter was rewarded with expensive items and favouritism for following his father's words, while the other boys were punished with smaller rooms and abusive words for rebelling. Maybe that meant Daniel would change his name to 'Napoleon' and slowly morph into a pig that used whips.

It turns out the rumours about the library and other rooms were true, and the library was one hell of a library. It was a gigantic room, and looked like it had once been at least three rooms, but the walls had been knocked down in between them. It was obvious that the Kirklands enjoyed books.

Alfred knew that the next few rooms belonged to Arthur, Alastair and Owain, and the twins. There'd be no point in checking in there, he thought, so he headed on up to the next floor.

After getting lost inside one oversized bathroom and nearly tripping over multiple musical instruments, Alfred came to a door that looked an awful lot grander than the others. If this were a palace, then this would obviously be where the king and queen would sleep, but seeing as Ivy was not a queen, and Daniel was not a king, Alfred didn't really know what to call them. But he was pretty sure that this would be were the Communist Leader Daniel would choose to sleep, and therefore this would probably be where Ivy was.

Sure enough, when Alfred knocked on the wood, there was a soft 'come in' from the inside. Taking a deep breath, and preparing himself for whatever she might want to talk about, the American gently pushed the door open, and was met with an extravagant room, that really _did_ look fit for a king and queen duo.

"Sit down," Ivy smiled, she was sitting on one of the many sofas that was in the room, and issued for his to take a seat opposite her in a little armchair, a simple coffee table separating the two of them. Alfred quickly obeyed, and took a seat, smiling at her.

"I suppose you're wondering why I called you here." Ivy said, handing him a cup of tea, and offering him a biscuit, which he gladly took, "Well, I wanted to apologise."

Looking up from his biscuit, Alfred blinked a few times, trying not to spray crumbs everywhere when he answered "For what?"

Chuckling, Ivy sipped her own tea, "for looking like such a failure since you've come here… You must be wondering how on earth I've managed to raise six boys, when I can hardly control my emotions."

Alfred nodded sheepishly, "I don't want to offend you, but, yeah I kinda was wondering that…"

"No, no, don't worry about offending me, Alfred. Your honesty is refreshing!" Ivy chuckled, smiling fondly, "and I want you to know that, no matter my fiancé's views on the world… I will always support you. No matter what choices you make, I'll be behind you, do you understand?"

A little weary of where the situation was heading, Alfred played dumb, "I'm sorry? You've lost me."

"I'm sorry, what I mean to say is that… if you and Arthur ever choose to be more than just friends, then I'm fine with that. I could understand if you would never want to tell me and Daniel because his reaction would obviously be negative, but if you _do_ turn out to be… together, I will support that." The woman chose her words very carefully.

Taken aback at how freakishly correct Ivy had described his current situation, Alfred continued with his act, "Ah, I'm very sorry, Miss. Kirkland, but as dashing as your son is, I would never like him in that way. I know it's quite odd for pupils of my school, but I'm straight, y'know? I'd be fine if Artie was gay, but I'll never be like that." It felt weird to say it, and he felt like he was betraying Arthur, but Alfred knew that he had no choice but to spurt the lies, for Arthur's sake. It was kinda weird that only a few months ago he was happily kidding _himself_ with similar lies.

"I understand, I'm sorry for jumping to conclusion. But with the few hours that you've been here, I've already begin to see how good you and Arthur are for each other – as friends of course!" She added hurriedly, "I thank you for that, by the way. I've always been quite worried about little Arthur, but you've finally opened him up."

Shaking his head, Alfred smiled, "It's no problem at all, Miss. Kirkland."

"Call me Ivy, dear," Ivy smiled, "'Miss. Kirkland' makes me sound like a maths teacher."

"Come to think of it… if you don 't mind me asking… what _do_ you do? It must be a pretty impressive job to be able to afford such an awesome place like this…" Alfred looked around at the regal room.

Ivy smiled warmly at that, "I'm unemployed. It's Daniel that brings in all the money around here. He doesn't work either, he used to be in the navy though. His parents passed away a while back, and left him with rather a generous sum of cash. We've been able to manage quite nicely without jobs for the past while, and probably all our lives."

"That must be nice," Alfred smiled warmly.

"Well, yes and no…" Ivy chuckled, "It's nice to know I'll never be strapped for cash, but it disappoints me that I know _I_ didn't earn it. I've always been pretty poor, y'know? Working in bars and stuff. That's how I met Alastair's dad, Scott McAllen. I was only sixteen, I lied to the owners of the bar telling them I was twenty one. Hell, I could've got away with saying I was twenty five! I was a bit of a slut back then. I attracted the old guys, y'know?" She shrugged, "Over a few nights of solid, hardcore 'love', I was pregnant." She sighed, "I'm sorry, you probably don't want to hear this…"

Alfred found that he was oddly intrigued, "No, go on."

Smiling, Ivy nodded, "Thank you. So, I was pregnant, my dad pretty much disowned me. Scott ran off for a while, and I didn't get a trace of him. I was heartbroken – I actually believed he loved me. But, three months into the pregnancy, Scott came back, begging for forgiveness. Of course, because I was a pushover I forgave him the minute I saw him, and he proposed, of course I said yes. We had the wedding very soon after, while I was pregnant, and then Alastair was born, but only a few days later, we were already filling out the divorce forms… we were both rumbled for cheating."

Blinking a few times, Alfred keeled over, "Wait, you were both cheating on each other, without the other one knowing? And you found out at the same time?"

Ivy nodded, "Sick, isn't it? The only reason he found out is because he noticed a bulge in my stomach…"

"You got pregnant?" Alfred felt like he was listening to a soap opera!

"Yup… none other than the twins bless them. I was seventeen by now. Alastair was only four months old when they were born. It was terrible, they came out so early; apparently Colin nearly didn't make it. They were tiny, tiny things… It broke my heart to see them so helpless. Their father, Finn Quince was pretty panicky. Man, he was such a nice guy, he was supportive with my break up with Scott, but he was quite a bit older than me. He proposed the moment I told him I broke up with Scott, and we had the wedding a month after. Again, it only took a few moths, and he was gone." Ivy sighed.

Alfred knitted his eyebrows together, "What happened?"

"Nothing, really… we just argued _so_ much… He got into alcohol…" She shook her head, "Last I heard, he was in rehab. But at this point, I decided that I couldn't look after three kids. I got into contact with Scott, and he agreed that he wanted to look after Alastair up in Scotland, and Finn quite happily took the twins back with him to Ireland. But, he couldn't cope with the both of them, so while he looked after Shane in Southern Ireland, he asked his brother, Jack to take care of Colin up in Northern Ireland. That's why the twins are so inseparable now – they were brought up apart, and they felt incomplete, I guess.

"The night the divorce was final with Finn, I was hanging around in a bar completely devastated. This was the first time I'd been in a bar legally – I was finally eighteen. I ran into a nice guy, who offered to buy me a drink. This was, of course, Dafydd Jones, Owain's father. Dafydd wasn't much older than me; only twenty. We took this one slow – or slow in comparison to my other relationships. I married Dafydd in the summer, and then in the winter, Owain was born. He was pretty early, too. He was born at the start of December, but by the end, more divorce forms were being filled out…"

Alfred screwed his face up in confusion and pain for Ivy, "But _why?_"

"Well, Dafydd and I were both pretty young, and Dafydd had a 'friend' who he was very close to. He realised not long after having Owain that he wasn't into women – he'd been gay all along. He probably knew a lot sooner than he told me; he just didn't want to tell me because of the pregnancy. Dafydd and I are still close friends, but friends is all we'll be. I suppose I still kind of love him… I love them all, really…"

Sipping his tea awkwardly, Alfred avoided her gaze, "T-That must be pretty painful."

She nodded, "It was. The night the forms were submitted, I was in a bar. I met Daniel. At this point I was homeless – I'd been living with Dafydd in Wales, and now I was homeless, as I'd run off to England I was that heartbroken. I was sobbing at a bar, feeling sorry for myself. This was the turning point in my life where I realised what a slut I'd been. Four kids, three failed marriages in three years. It doesn't even sound all that possible. I was extremely vulnerable at this point – I had no money, no job, and no where to go. I decided I had no choice but to go around as a prostitute. I know, it's completely wrong and disgusting, but that's how I met Daniel. He said I could stay at his place as long as I wanted, provided every night I stayed, he'd get to… 'collect his payment in bed' as he phrased it. That's how Arthur was born. I _still_ hadn't learnt my lesson… But Arthur was born early, and Daniel and I began falling in love. We took things slowly. We made love quite a bit, but it was because we wanted to, not because I had to pay for my place there. Then, after I had Peter a while later, I decided to go and visit every single one of my sons.

"Alastair warmed up to me immediately, as he wasn't used to having a mum around him. Scott was, and still is a bit of a man slag – different woman in his bed every night, "Ivy chuckled, "But he let me see Alastair, and he often came down to London to stay with us. That's how he got pretty attached to Owain, who kept in touch because Dafydd and I wanted to bring Owain up together. There was a few years where Dafydd and his boyfriend stayed with us here so we could bring Owain up, along with Alastair and Arthur, but it soon drove Daniel insane, and he all but chased them away with a chainsaw. Finn and Jack were different though – they were pissed that I ran off without a backward glace, and they had the right to be, after all. I didn't see the twins again until they were quite a bit older, and the first time Arthur met them was year seven in Goverek School. It's kind of sad, really. And ever since, I've had a tradition that every summer, come what may they have to come here and see me. All of them."

Alfred just sat there, stunned, and feeling terribly sorry for Ivy. No wonder she was such a state – she'd had a pretty complicated life. All she wanted was to be accepted by someone, and she was finally getting that with Daniel. She was a slow learner, and a bit thick to have so many sons and _carry on_ having them, but she'd managed with a lot, and by the sounds of things had no help whatsoever.

There was only one thing Alfred could do, then, he decided. So, putting his tea down on the table, he walked over to the sofa where Ivy was now softly sobbing, and hugged her gently.

"It's not your fault it happened like that… Yeah you were stupid, and yeah, you probably shouldn't have done that, especially with all your marriages, but you've learnt from that now, haven't you? And all of your sons love you, so you've managed to get through it! All that matters is that you're there for them when it matters most, and I've heard the way they talk about you. Sometimes they're not too happy about you taking Daniel's side, but they still love you." He whispered softly.

Slightly awkwardly, Ivy returned the hug, trembling, "I know, I know, but I'm scared! I don't want to break up with Daniel, and I know it's wrong, and selfish, but I don't want to argue with him in case he leaves me. I don't want anything to go wrong…"

"You don't have to break up with him, but we all know it can't go on like it is, right? You can't watch your sons getting hurt over and over, can you?" Alfred reasoned.

"You're right. My god, Alfred, you're bloody brilliant. I can't think about it now – I don't want to, but… after the wedding. Yes, after the wedding, if Daniel hasn't changed, then I'll talk to him. I can do it. If he loves me, he'll change, right?" Ivy practically begged.

"Sure…" Alfred agreed half-heartedly, suddenly worried that Daniel might _not_ change for Ivy; as, well… he was _Daniel_. Alfred could only hope that his advice would help the scared woman through her worries...

**A/N**

**Well, that took a while o.o I don't even know _why!_ I'm sorry if you don't like hearing about the Kirkland's parent's generation X'D it's relevant ^^ trust me! A few more chapters, and I swear there'll be some more USUK, some PruCan, some Spamano, maybe a bit of Francis/Owain and Owain/Alastair, and probably a little Franada :D and GerIta! Look forward to it; I know I am XD kidding XD sorry if that was a bad chapter, by the way ._." I'm not too pleased with it XD**

**And sorry about the Animal Farm reference in the middle if you haven't read the book! It's not too important, anyways, so don't worry about it XD**

**I have a soft spot for Ivy :'3**

**By the way, did any Brits go to the Manchester MCM Expo yesterday? ^^ I was there with my friend who was cosplaying as Haruhi Suzumia, and I was Tohru Honda from Fruits Basket ^^ tell me if you went, and who you went as; I might've seen you ^^**

**Chapters'll hopefully be up soon, people! :D**

**Bahbyes~!**


	35. Planning and scheming

**Chapter thirty five – Planning and scheming**

"Ludwig…"

"_What?"_

"I'm bored."

"Well, Gilbert, isn't that a surprise?"

The Belischmidt household was not a fun place to be at the current moment, as Gilbert was realising. The albino was, as he'd told Ludwig many, many times, incredibly bored. Francis and Matthew were back at school, probably having a great time without him, and Antonio was lucky enough to have been invited to stay with Mr. Vargas and the house full of bubbly Italians. Ludwig had been pretty jealous about that too, though only because he was always very weary of the Spaniard's rather flirtatious attitude towards little Feliciano.

But Gilbert and Ludwig were stuck in their huge house, with only their dad as company. Yes, it was fun having 'quality time' with their beloved Vati, but he wasn't exactly best friend material. Miss Héderváry and Mr. Edelstein were making a habit of popping over on quite a regular basis, and the boys had heard rumours (which had been fed to them by a certain mischievous Hungarian) that Mr. Vargas and their dad were secretly planning to get together some day soon, so the boys wouldn't be as bored as they were currently.

Ludwig now had a little collection in his room of solved crosswords, which he'd spent the first two weeks of his holiday completing non-stop. Now however, he'd driven himself insane, and had moved on to sudoku puzzles. Gilbert, who was not the one to do voluntary school work – or voluntary _anything_ for that matter – had surrendered to the world of videos, and bought himself every version of pokémon and completed them all, and was now moving on to all of the Sonic games. Though Gilbert, who was naturally an outdoor adventurer, was not satisfied by the games. And he knew exactly why. He wanted Matthew.

So, the frustrated teenager decided one mournfully boring morning, he was going to call the Canadian, and even if he was pointedly ignored, at least he'd know he'd tried. Maybe that'd make him feel a little better. Maybe.

Very shakily clicking the '1' key (Matthew wasn't on his speed dial…) the receiver began ringing painfully slowly. Once, twice, three times. Gilbert had begun to loose count along with hope by the time the other side was finally picked up.

"Hello?"

Gilbert would've happily welcomed that word, if it had been from the person whose phone he was talking to. For a second, Gilbert wondered if Matthew's voice had broken in the few weeks he'd been away, as the voice who was talking to him most definitely wasn't Matthews.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

Oh that was annoying, thought Gilbert to himself – the voice had a French accent.

"Francis! What the hell are you doing with Matthew's phone?" Gilbert hissed, annoyed, "You'd better not be trying anything funny with him…!"

"Oh hon, on the contrary, _mon frere,_ if anything I have only helped you. I will explain. I am on Matthew's phone, as we were attempting to make croissants for a brunch, but it turns out that gigantic bottle of maple syrup you bought Matthew for his birthday isn't all that practical – it spilt all over him when he was trying to pour it, so he's off in the shower. I offered to lick it off for him, but don't worry, he declined." The French boy drawled the grin in his voice obvious.

Glaring into the receiver, Gilbert pouted, "Well how the hell is that meant to be helping me?"

"Because, _mon frere_, I have had many a conversation about you to Matthew." Francis now sounded a little annoyed, "After we 'gave ourselves' to him for his birthday, he was confused. He was overjoyed that I was _finally_ going to accept his love, but he came to me the same night, and we had a chat. He said he wanted to be with me, but every time he _was_ with me, he felt wrong, and like he was betraying you. He also said that when he was with you, he didn't feel that was about me – he didn't miss me, feel bad about leaving me out – nothing. Now, I have finally managed to get over Owain, and I hope to god it will stay that way. And the one chance I get a chance to be in a _real_ relationship, with someone who has been craving _me_, it turns out he loves my best friend more than me. And Gilbert, I will let that happen."

"What…?" Gilbert was more than a little confused, "Hang on, hang on, backtrack a little."

Francis sighed with frustration, "Matthew is in love with me, we can establish that. But a little known fact is that he is in fact in love with you _too_, but _more._ You've won, Gilbert – he's yours. But what I'm saying is I want you to remember that, while you were gone, I could've very easily convinced him to be with me. I could've made him mine, and I would finally feel pleased with my relationship; like I wasn't pulling the other down, or pulling myself up. But I didn't do that – I told Matthew all the good qualities about you, and that you were much better than me." Francis was beginning to sound very desperate.

"But _why?"_ Gilbert was still completely baffled.

"Because I care about the two of you." Francis answered simply, now all the hate gone from his voice, and sounding more tired, pleading and just apathetic, "I want you to be happy together, and I want you to understand that you _love_ each other."

Gilbert paused, just staring at the wall and trying to take it all in, "So you gave up Mattie for me? You gave up all your feelings, just to give me a chance?"

"Yes, and you'd better not fuck it up!" Francis growled.

Pausing again to take it in, Gilbert shook his head in disbelief, "Man, how are you even human? That's like… Godly. How is it you act like such a dick, but you're so fluffy and sentimentally nice underneath? You should show people your nice side more often, man!"

"Well, y'know… 'yolo' and all." Francis chuckled.

"Don't even _go_ there, man!" Gilbert warned with a grin. None of the boys were too fond of the expression 'yolo', unless the letters stood for 'you obviously love Oreos', because _obviously_ everyone loved Oreos. But 'yolo' and its original meaning was, in Gilbert's opinion a crappy excuse for everything. Of _course_ you only live once, but why dwell on that!

"But listen, I've managed to pull a few strings," Francis returned to all seriousness, "I've pretty much gift-wrapped you for Matthew, so when you see him next, act that way/ I don't mean kiss him the minute you see him, but make subtle moves, like hold his hand, hug him for a few extra seconds, or whatever. But you need to wait for him to kiss _you_, okay?"

Gilbert chewed on his lip nervously, "Okay, but when will I see him next?"

Knowing the famous mischievous glint had appeared in Francis' eye, Gilbert grinned as the boy recited his plan, "You see, _mon frere, _as you probably know, our parents are pretty much all the same age. And when I refer to 'us', I mean my mother, your father, Feliciano's uncle, and Arthur's mother. Then of course the addition of Mr. Edelstein and Miss. Héderváry. From what I've heard, they seemed to all be pretty friendly in school."

A little confused on the change of subject, Gilbert narrowed his eyes, "So what?"

"You've met Ivy Kirkland before, have you not? Charming woman, _non?_ But she's getting married in a week or so – from what I've heard, your father has received an invitation?" Francis drawled happily, knowing his plan was perfect.

Thinking for a second, Gilbert backtracked. He'd been watching the post for days, as he'd been waiting for 'Sonic Advance' to come through the post. And now Francis mentioned it, he _did _remember a fancy-looking envelope a few weeks back at the start of the holiday, and when he'd handed it to his father, he'd sworn hotly, complaining that 'they could never be early, even if they tried'. His father did have a point – who handed out wedding invitations only weeks before the event?

"Yes! We were invited, though what does that have to do with Matthew?" Gilbert narrowed his eyes, "And does that mean you, Feliciano and the others are going?"

Chuckling, Francis simply said, "I have connections, dear Gilbert, and Ivy simply _adores _me. I can pull a few strings, and get Matthew to come. Plan well, and don't ruin it. Oh, and FYI, yes, me, Feliciano, Lovino, Felicia, Romana – pretty much everyone who has a connection to them. It's a big ceremony."

"Francis, I fucking love you. Did I ever tell you that you were my God?"

"Yes, yes, _mon frere_, I know, I know."

* * *

"Alfred! I really need that manuscript paper! The ideas are _falling out of my head!_ Hurry it, hurry it!" Arthur was leaning on the keys of the piano, hands gripping his hair as he tried to will himself to remember the tune he'd thought up as an accident, though he could feel himself forgetting it. Alfred couldn't seem to find the manuscript paper, even when looking in the draw that was labelled 'manuscript paper'.

"I've got it!" Alfred cried triumphantly, running quickly to Arthur's side, and shoving the paper and a nearby pencil into the boy's hand, "Write, Artie, write!"

"I'm _trying_; I just can't remember what I was going to write!" Arthur growled, helplessly trying to find the lost melody on the keys in front of him. It was no use, "Damn it…"

Felling terrible for the boy's loss, Alfred chewed on his lip, "I'm sorry, Artie… I should've been quicker."

Arthur shook his head with a smile, "No, no, it's fine, Alfred. I should keep manuscript paper next to me in case of emergency. But I need to remember that melody soon, or think up a new one, or that composition for my mum isn't going to be ready…"

"I thought you already wrote that?" Alfred pouted, confused.

Nodding, Arthur sighed, "I did, but when I showed it to dad, he demanded for it to be longer. He's so _difficult_. So I have to write a complete new thirty second section – it doesn't sound hard, but it really, really is."

"That kinda sucks…" Alfred frowned. Arthur simply nodded helplessly, "Is there anything I could help you with…?"

Shaking his head, Arthur patted Alfred's hand, "Thanks, but it's okay. You can't read music, can you?"

Avoiding his gaze, Alfred shook his head bashfully.

"You're too adorable sometimes, you know?" Arthur whispered, and immediately blushed after he'd said it, "I mean… I don't think you're not adorable _all_ the time, but you were just especially cute then, and I…"

"Artie, you're babbling~" Alfred sung, pulling his arms around the Brit in a huge hug, "I love your babbling. I love _you."_

Swallowing awkwardly, Arthur nodded, "L-love you too."

The two were shocked apart by the door opening, frantically turning around and begging that it wasn't Daniel, the boys almost collapsed with relief once they saw that it was none other than Owain smiling happily down at them.

"I'd watch it, you two. Daniel could've seen anything then, and you're in a room full of heavy, probably deadly, musical instruments." Owain chuckled, signalling all around him, "don't mind me, anyway, I need some sheet music. Mum wants to do a bloody duet!" he rolled his eyes, exasperated, "I tell you! A _duet_ four bloody days before her wedding – she needs to be preparing! Did you know she hasn't' even ordered a cake yet?"

Arthur slapped a hand to his forehead, "You're _kidding_ me. Come on, Alfred, we have a cake to order, then…"

"Thanks, Arthur," Owain smiled. The poor boy had been worked to the bone in the last week; as their mother was so terrible at organising things, pretty much the entire wedding planning had been left to Owain, who was enjoying his job, but found it stressful at the same time, "there's a catalogue downstairs, I've circled the most suitable cakes – there's money in the pot by the kettle. Good luck."

Arthur climbed to his feet, helping Alfred up, "Is there anything else you want us to get?"

"Oh! Yes, there is, actually. We need scented candles, and big, blue ribbons – about fifty candles, and enough ribbon to tie a bow around each one. Sorry to be such a trouble." Owain smiled thankfully, "You're a star, Arthur."

"What would you do without me?" Arthur chuckled, "Me and Alfred haven't been on a date in a while, anyways."

At the word 'date', Alfred was whooping for joy, "A date! Yes! That's _awesome_ Artie! Lov-" The American was promptly shut up by a light kick in the shin from a glaring Arthur.

"Shh! As sweet at you are, my bloody dad could hear you!" Arthur whispered, "I need a bloody lead for you… Anyway, Owain, we'll see you later. Good luck."

Chuckling, Owain nodded, "I'll need it."

After finding the sheet music that he needed, Owain swivelled on his heals, heading down the hallway, muttering about how useless his mum could be at things like this.

"Hold up, Owain."

Grinning at the voice, Owain turned around quickly, beaming up at Alastair, "Hiya!"

The Scottish boy smiled, ruffling his half-brother's hair fondly, "It sucks being here… I never get to hug you."

"I know," Owain sighed, "I think Daniel really_ would_ flip if he heard about me and you."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about." Alastair sighed heavily, beckoning for the two of them to take shelter inside their bedroom. Once inside, the door barricaded, and the two of them were sitting down, Alastair looked at the bed covers, sighing, "I want you to go on a date with Francis."

Narrowing his eyes at what he'd heard, Owain pouted, "I've told you before, I don't want to date Francis. I like it how it is _now_."

"But Owain, it's not going to stay like this forever." Alastair explained gently, running a hand through the boy's locks soothingly, "Look, what we're doing – it's weird. It's wrong, and we need to stop."

"I don't want to." Owain insisted, "All we're doing is what little kids do! We're just hugging, the occasional hand-holding, and when I get lonely I crawl into bed with you! I used to do all that when I was little!"

Alastair smiled sadly, "But that was when you were little, Owain. Listen, I feel very protective over you, and although things can't continue like they are, that doesn't mean they have to stop completely. We can hug, and on very, _very_ occasional times we can hold hands, yeah? And if you have a nightmare, you can share a bed with me. But we _both_ need to remember that we share a mother. A close brotherly relationship is fine, but we can't mix that up with… something else. For that reason, I think we need boyfriends. Or girlfriends. Or whatever. This is why you need to speak to Francis. He can make you so much happier than I could possibly make you. _Please,_ for the both of our sakes, go on that date. Then we can begin to untangle ourselves from this weird web we're stuck in."

Starting to get a little distraught at the words Alastair was saying, Owain tried to hold himself together, "But I don't _want_ that! Alastair, we've had this conversation before; we said we'd just carry on until we found someone, right? I just want to stay like I am with you for a little longer…"

"And you can. Owain, look at me," Alastair knocked Owain's gaze up to meet his own; "we can stay how we are, but then slowly stop. It's like when you're trying to get a kid to stop wetting the bed, or stop sucking his thumb. You don't enforce rules on to them immediately – you slowly introduce the idea of nappies or pacifiers, showing them that you _can_ do this differently. Now, let's assume that our… situation is like the habit we want to break, and Francis is the key to solving it. Rather than demanding that you never even touch me, what we do is let you get used to being back around Francis, yeah? Then, slowly you can stop being as close to me, and focus all of that affection at Francis. Understand?" Alastair was soothingly stroking Owain's hand, but not in the way that it could have been implied – it was a very… _brotherly_ action. Alastair finally felt like he was doing his job as a big brother right.

Owain frowned at the floor, pouting while he thought about Alastair's idea. He knew deep down that really he _should_ go along with it, but there was that one selfish part of him that just didn't want to change, no matter the cost. Owain's thoughts were rudely interrupted by the harsh vibrating of his phone. The caller ID notified Owain that none other than the very French boy he didn't want to talk to was calling him at this very moment. Alastair, who had noticed the ID as well, motioned for Owain to pick up the phone with a glint of a warning in his eyes. Owain decided that he didn't have much choice but to answer the phone.

"_Bore da, _Francis." Owain greeted stiffly in Welsh, trying not to let a blush creep up on to his cheeks.

"_Bonjour, mon cher,_ I have a little favour to ask of my favourite little dragon." Francis drawled through the receiver, the little smirk very clear in his voice, "Though, before I request it, I want you to know, it is not on my behalf I am requesting this favour. I'm doing my good deed for the day and am helping Gilbert."

Pausing to exchange a confused glance with Alastair, Owain pouted in thought, "What does _Gilbert_ want?"

"You see, _mon cher…_ I believe I have finally set up a budding little romance between Matthew and Gilbert, but as Gilbert is trapped in the lairs of his father's house, which is up near _Scotland - _ a _seven hour drive_ away from Goverek high school, it seems that the next Gilbert is going to see of that cute little Canadian is September. And we all know that, given that much free time, that albino is going to find _some_ way to screw things up – he'll probably sleep with a dog or something stupid. I don't know. But there is also another time that Gilbert could see Matthew."

"And that is?"

"Your mother's wedding, _mon cher_. I'm sure you know that my mother and I have received an invitation? The favour I am requesting is that a certain Canadian was to receive one as well. If my plan were to pan out ideally, my mother could fly over from Paris, while Matthew and I could take the train down to London, and meet her in the airport, and then make our way to your mother's wedding. We'll even cover all the additional costs that Matthew might add to the bill. All you need to do is provide an extra seat. Do we have a deal? I know _you'll_ be the one doing the organising, as frankly the rest of your family is a mess of unorganised chaos." Francis' plan was a well hatched one.

Owain had a little plan of his own. "Deal. On one condition."

"Oh hon? And what could that be, my dear?"

Taking a deep breath, Owain glanced over at Alastair, smiling, before reciting slowly to Francis, "Y-you need to come down to London a day before the wedding. You book into a hotel or something overnight, but on that day before the wedding, you… you need to take me on a date."

There was silence for a second on the other side, "Are you asking me out, Owain?"

"No. I'm asking you to ask me out." Owain pouted, suddenly regretting it.

"Oh you adorable little thing! You know, you called that a condition, but that's just an added bonus, my dear. Now, don't you worry about anything. I'll be there bright an early a day before, ready to pick you up. You won't regret it, _mon cher_. Well, I'll see you in just under a week, my darling. _Au revoir."_

"I'll bloody '_au revoir' _you…" Owain muttered quietly before hanging up, frowning, "Happy?" he asked Alastair.

The Scottish boy clambered to his feet, smiling, "Very. Thank you, my brave little brother." The eldest enveloped Owain into a hug. Though this hug wasn't like their past hugs. It was like before, when Alastair was soothing Owain by stroking his hand. Already, their actions towards each other were becoming less and less weird, and more and more brotherly.

**A/N**

**Hellos, dear readers :3  
So that's pretty much it with the Alastair/Owain stuff. I don't know whether to call it fluff or not X'D I know some of you will be sad to see it go, while others will be very happy X'D  
NOW! Do you remember, back in chapter 24 (The chapter titled 'Miss Héderváry') Hungary mentioned that in high school she was in a pretty serious relationship with another girl. Now if you don't want a sort-of spoiler, then stop reading now (I'll tell you with big capitals when it's safe XD) SPOILER-ISH bit: There was an uncertain little idea that the girl that she was dating was none other than Ivy; now, should I keep that idea in, or would that be a terrible idea? I need feedback people! If no one says anything, then I'll just go ahead and put it, and if you hate, well it's your own problem XD But if people do express their feelings, I'll go with the majority. I'm sorry if the winning idea doesn't match yours – it's not a very major storyline twister, and if you really dislike the idea, then I'm sure you could skip over the paragraph if it is put in X'D  
ANYWAYS! Lecture over :D  
Two more chapters? Man I don't know X'D  
Au revoir for now, my dears! And remember – There will be cookies for reviews. :3 loljk.**


	36. l'Amour

**Chapter thirty six – l'Amour**

The Kirkland household was in uproar.

"We're not going to make it in time…!" Ivy was crying, running around like a headless chicken.

"No, no, it'll be fine! Arthur, listen, you're in charge!" Owain was trying to straighten the bows that had been tied around chairs very ornamental chairs, "don't let Alastair touch _anything!_ Even if it means tying him up and locking him in his room!"

"Yeah, 'cause you'd enjoy that, wouldn't you, Owain?" The twins called over, rough grins plastered all over their faces.

Glaring, Owain growled, "Shut it and carry on getting the room ready! You have twenty four hours and twenty four hours only to make this place look like a suitable reception room! And I also need to mention that you need to go to the church and sort _that_ place out as well, but don't worry too much about that – I've had a little word with the vicar and he seems to enjoy interior design. But that doesn't give you an excuse to slack off!"

Alfred popped his head through the door, "Francis is here!"

Blushing hotly, Owain's eyes widened, "R-right! Well, good luck. Mum, Arthur, twins, Alfred…" the Welsh boy paused, "Daniel." He nodded curtly, quickly escaping out of the door, ready to run off down the drive to meet Francis.

Sadly, Daniel was not going to let the boy go with that.

"Excuse me? And where are you going?" Daniel stuck his foot in front of one of the double doors, preventing Owain's escape.

"Out with a friend… Francis." Owain muttered, studying the tiles, knowing all too well where the conversation was going.

Daniel pouted his lip in mock thought, "Hm. And this 'friend', does he happen to be a boy?"

"Yes… he does."

"So that would make him your 'boyfriend' then, wouldn't it, Owain?" Daniel looked ready to gag at the word.

Frowning, and not attempting to point out the fact that just because hew as gay, not _every_ boy he hung out with was out to be his boyfriend, Owain decided that he should keep the conversation as quick as possible – no matter what options he chose, he'd always end up with the same outcome; something, probably a heavy something, being thrown at him. He may as well do it quickly, "As a matter of fact, yes he is."

Raising his eyebrows, Daniel sneered, "So you're telling me, you're ditching us to go and get all friendly with that French kid? Oh, no, no, no. Number one, even if I wasn't getting married tomorrow, you would _not_ be going out with that boy. Number two, as much as I hate to admit it, you are probably our only chance of getting this wedding to work, and I am _not_ letting you ruin this day for your mother. So you can get right back inside that lounge and carry on making decorations."

Clenching his teeth, Owain was about to argue back at Daniel's orders, until someone did it for him.

"No. Daniel, he can go out. He's worked very hard these past days. I don't like the way you treat him like he's less than everyone else. He is _my son,_ and soon will be yours too." The pair wheeled around to see Ivy glaring at her fiancé in the hallway, "I don't want to deal with this stress right now, but for god's sake, Daniel – I can't marry you if you treat my sons like they're nothing!"

Staring at his soon-to-be wife like she'd gone insane, Daniel glared at Owain, as if it was all his fault, "it didn't seem to bother you a while ago. These freaks will never be my sons!"

"Well, if you think of them as 'freaks' then I don't think I'll be able to marry you." Ivy announced loudly. So loudly, everyone in the lounge hear her, and all came running out at once, each with either a look of shock or an excited smile on their faces. "Owain, go on, and have fun on your date, dear. Don't let dear Francis wait too much. And boys," She turned to her other sons in the lounge, "go and wait up in your rooms, yeah? Daniel and I need a little chat."

Awkwardly, each of the boys nodded, all glaring at Daniel, and patting their mother with support as they trotted up the stairs. Owain, who felt awful for shaking his mum up so close to the day ran up to her and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, and making sure to shoot an obvious glare at Daniel, ran off down the drive to meet Francis.

"What took you so long?" Francis grinned upon seeing Owain, "I though you were going to chicken out…"

Owain, who was still a little shaken by the argument and just shook his head, "Argument. I caused it. Don't want to talk about it."

Nodding, Francis understood immediately, "I see, don't worry. You have the amazing company of _moi_ to take your mind off it, _non?"_

Smiling and hesitantly stepping a little closer into Francis' body, Owain nodded, "Yeah… So where are you taking me?"

Waggling his eyebrows almost seductively, Francis snaked an arm around Owain's slender back, "Well, I don't want to give away too many hints, but I thought that seeing as we are so close to the city centre…" he reached inside his coat, bringing out two train tickets, "I thought we'd have a little shopping spree in London."

Owain's eyes widened, a huge grin spreading across his face, "London? Are you serious!" without even thinking about it, the Welsh boy flung his arms around Francis, "_Diolch yn fawr iawn!_ Francis, you're _amazing!_ It's been ages since I've been there! Thank you!"

"It's no problem, my dear Owain. What else could be the ultimate experience for two gays?" Francis chuckled, smiling down at Owain fondly, "oh how I've missed you."

Staring up at Francis, Owain felt like the French boy had enchanted him with some sort of magical spell. Thoughts and feelings of their time together last year flooded back into his head – everything before he'd been drowned in his own hatred for the blonde haired romanticist. He realised that, no matter what he'd told himself, he actually _had_ missed Francis. An awful lot.

"I've missed you too… Francis. W-will you take me back…?" Owain muttered, suddenly realising that it had been _terrible _of him to just _leave _Francis last year… Now that it occurred to him, apparently Francis never really got over him… Oh jeeze Owain felt bad.

"Owain, _mon cher,_ I took you back the moment you asked me out," Francis rolled his eyes at Owain's glare, "I'm sorry – I took you back from the moment you asked me to ask you out."

"Thank you…" Owain smiled gratefully, letting his hand run against Francis' rough stubble on his chin. The action was so simple and so familiar it was refreshing.

"Come on, then! We can't miss our train!" With that, Francis grabbed hold of Owain's hand, dragging him in the direction of the nearby train station. With all stressful thoughts of the wedding and Ivy and Daniel's argument gone, Owain let loose, letting a grin slide on to his face and a blush proudly beam out on his cheeks. Man, he'd missed Francis, but now the two of them were acting like they'd never even been apart.

* * *

It turned out that Francis' big idea for a date in London really was a big idea, and saying it was 'shopping' didn't really cover it.

The two began their romantic affairs on a very crowded tube ride into the centre of London. It was the middle of the holidays, so the train was crowded with both locals and tourists, though the amount of tourists easily outnumbered the locals by an outstanding number. Francis even made friends with a little French girl and her mother who were very excited about visiting the capital, as they'd never been outside of France before.

"_Au revoir et bonne chance, mes chers~"_ Francis waved at the adorable little girl and winking at their mother, before returning to a giggling Owain. Gracefully hopping over the gap and on to the platform, then lifting Owain down, Francis wondered over to a huge tube map in the corner, greeting any French people as he passed.

"Well, _mon cher,_ where should we begin our amazing adventures?" Francis teasingly slid an arm around Owain's waist, tickling it slightly. Immediately, the Welsh boy let out a little squeak of surprise, jumping away from the touch, which incidentally caused him to hop right in close to Francis' hold.

Before the rather romantic mood that had emerged between the two had chance to develop into action, a group of passers by took it upon themselves to break the moment by letting out a load cough of disapproval. Francis turned around, glaring at the group of middle aged women that had passed, clearly displeased by the public affection. Not to mention the _gay_ display of public affection. Neither Owain or Francis were in the mood to be pushed around by homophobes. No, not this time.

"Excuse me?" Francis called back the women, who all paused in their steps, slowly turning around to meet their disturber. "I was just wondering, do you have a _problem_ about me and my boyfriend?" Francis either didn't notice, or chose not to notice Owain's blush at the word 'boyfriend'.

Exchanging eyebrow-raised glances, the women looked at each other with a look that almost seemed amused. The woman in the middle answered, "Well, now you happen to mention it, we do have a problem with it." Oh, this woman was American – a tourist. Francis could use that to his advantage.

"I see. Well, do you also have a problem with the fact that I am French, or that my boyfriend is Welsh? I don't really have a problem with the fact that you are American or that one of your friends is Asian while the other is coloured." Francis' tone was deliberately naïve and ignorant. Owain grinned, knowing exactly what the boy was doing.

The women, now a little confused looked at each other, seeming to communicate telepathically. It was the coloured one who spoke next, "we have no problem that you're French. It's not your race that's the problem here. We were bothered by your inappropriate kissing in public. What point are you making?"

Francis smiled kindly, and then pointed over to a boy and a girl, holding hands, obviously in a relationship, "tell me, ladies, do you have a problem with those two over there?"

"Not really, no. But stop avoiding our questions." The Asian woman spoke this time, glaring.

"My point, ladies is that we are all different. I am French, my boyfriend is Welsh, and you are Asian, while your friends are South African and American. We are all still humans. This of our sexuality as a nationality. If the fact that I'm foreign doesn't bother you, then my preference in gender shouldn't bother you either. I am no different from that couple over there. Thank you for your time, and I hope I have given you something worthy to think about. Have a good day, ladies." Francis bowed flamboyantly, and then returned to Owain, pecking him on the lips before flouncing away.

"Come back here! You can't just say all that and just walk away!" The American called, sounding pissed.

Sighing, Owain decided to pipe up this time, "I think you'll find he can, miss. Now, if you'll excuse us." The two boys smiled at one another, and hopped on an escalator, triumphant grins on their faces.

"That was great, you know? It was incredibly brave…" Owain muttered, looking up at Francis kindly, tightening his grip on the French boy's arm.

Shrugging, Francis smiled, "You gave me the strength, see? I know you hate being looked down on, especially with all the stuff with Daniel – it's terrible what you've been put through. Well, no more. I'll stop it. That is, if you'll let me."

"If you buy me lunch," Owain winked jokingly, giggling.

"Try and stop me, you adorable boy! Now, I _was_ planning on taking you out to _the_ most romantic place in London; The Bleeding Heart Restaurant. It's French, I'll have you know! Sadly, not only was it many, many zeroes out of my price range, it seemed they frowned upon 'silly schoolchildren's dates' in their own words when I called them to book a reservation. They flatly rejected me, but luckily, I found of a lovely little coffee house that is just as nice. It's not as romantic, but it is very homely. And guess what; their theme is 'The best of Great Britain' and I've heard that they do a few pretty good Welsh dishes…"

"Sounds interesting," Owain grinned, licking his lips and his grin expanding when he saw a very light blush emerge on Francis' soft cheeks, "bet'cha they're not as nice as my dad's."

Nodding earnestly, Francis smiled, "Yes, your father does seem to be one of those rarely blessed Britons that have the skill of cooking. And your mother's Sunday dinners aren't that bad. But anyway! It is only eleven o'clock – we're hardly ready for lunch yet, _mon cher_ – let us go shopping!"

Owain beamed, letting out a whoop of approval as the gigantic escalator they were standing on arrived at the very top of the station, and out into the open air, bringing the two boys right in the middle of a very crowded, jubilant Piccadilly Circus.

"Sweet Jesus I'm dreaming…" Owain muttered blissfully, "You're bloody amazing, you know. Come on! I don't want to waste a second! Not a second of this date! We will shop until we drop, Francis, and then we will get up again, _and shop more!"_

Owain grabbed Francis' arm, dragging him into one of the nearest shops, taking the French boy by surprise. Francis chuckled, smiling at the boy's enthusiasm, "Yes, yes, whatever you wish, _mon cher~ _though do calm down, my dear, your enthusiasm, as refreshing as it is, is also so energetic it's draining. And a little bit scary."

Not bothering to reply – he was too involved in finding a new coat – Owain simply smiled at Francis almost patronisingly, before returning to his beloved clothes. Francis laughed quietly to himself, "Like you never even left…"

* * *

"Jesus, Owain, I knew you liked shopping, but for God's sake, even I think you may have overdone it, _mon cher!"_

"What are you talking about, Francis? I've hardly bought enough! I still need to get an entire outfit for tomorrow. Well, I don't _need_ to, but I'm having second thoughts about the suit I chose, and I need a good excuse to get a really expensive outfit. Oh my God, Francis. I could get a cravat! Oh sweet Jesus why didn't I think of that before? I need a cravat."

"Wow, slow down! You're thinking at one thousand miles per hour, and I can't keep up, my love!" Francis chuckled, "Now slow down, sip your tea, and eat your food. _Then_ we'll think about what we're going to buy next, though I don't know if we'll be able to carry much more…"

"I can't let this chance pass me by, Francis! I'm in London! I only come down here once a year, and even then the chances of me even catching a glance of this mesmerising city are slimmer than a pig escaping the slaughter house! I love this place; it's like my own drug! I simply can't think about consequences! A 'Spontaneous Shopping Spree' as I like to call it! Though I am incredibly tired…" Owain admitted quietly.

Francis smiled, taking a few of the seemingly endless selection of bags off Owain and adding it to his own collection of bags. Between them, Francis did a quick estimate, they were carrying about fifty bags from all different shops – some small, some large, some inside others. No wonder Owain was tired! "Don't worry, _mon cher,_ I know exactly where we can take a little break. Remember that cosy little place I was telling you about earlier – the one I was planning to take you out to lunch in? Well, it's just about lunch time, I think."

"You're a bloody angel." Owain felt like crying with joy at the promise of food. Yes, he was enjoying London, but after endless crowded tubes, huge queues, and walking for miles and miles, the country boy really did need a little fuel refill and muscle relaxation session. Plus there was the little perk that Francis knew what he was doing with food – you could always count on him to find one of the best spots in your environment to eat.

Owain wasn't quite sure Francis had managed it this time, though.

The pair found them standing outside a small, cosy looking place as Francis had described it. It looked and smelled very homely and well… _British_. All of this looked quite respectable and very appealing. Until you noticed the name of the café. Once you saw the three characters proudly hanging off the side of the building, all respect and dignity that the café had gained beforehand had just pummelled to the floor, and made you instantly want to leave.

"'S&M'" Owain recited the café's name, looking up at Francis as if he was insane, "You bastard! I knew you were kinky, but really? And I know we… 'experimented' a little with sadism and masochism, but do you really think this is an appropriate way to remind me of that!"

Letting out an amused laugh, Francis shook his head, "You misunderstand, _mon cher,_ the 'S&M' doesn't stand for sadist and masochist – it stands for something a lot more innocent, and what I happen to know as one of your favourite dishes."

"And what's that then?" Said Owain, still doubting Francis' excuse.

"'Sausages and Mash', am I not wrong that you love that dish? Look, follow me, I will show you that it is a perfectly acceptable _family _café." Francis took a step closer to the door, holding out his hand, inviting Owain to come in with him.

Owain, still a little hesitant, glared at the hand, "If I come in there and find it's full of poles and R18+ content then I am _leaving_ and you can consider yourself dumped!" He said before taking Francis' hand and entering cautiously inside the café.

It was indeed as Francis had said. The café was full of happy looking families, most of whom were eating sausages and mash as the name suggested. There were people of every age and race in there – a group of young girls in the corner, that looked a few years younger than Owain and Francis, a pair of gossiping old ladies by the window, children all running around the place with no sight of any parent following them – they were all relaxing on a pair of huge fluffy sofas by one of the fireplaces. The room was decorated to look quite stereotypically British – there were Union Jacks up everywhere, with pictures of the queen and other members of the royal family pinned up wherever possible. Huge bookcases lined the walls, filled with all sorts of British novels from Shakespeare to Harry Potter to Fifty Shades of Grey. There was a Beatles song being played through the stereo just coming to an end, and after it'd finished, Adele quickly began playing. Owain found that he'd been completely wrong about the place, and the only thing that seemed to resemble the kinky-sounding name were a group of young teenage boys, all with rather inappropriate images printed on their t-shirts. It seemed they'd made the same assumption as Owain.

"Hmm… Okay, I believe you. For now." Owain said half-jokingly, daintily sitting down on a large leather sofa, looking as if he was expecting the cushions to swallow him, "It is pretty romantic, to be fair."

"You can always count on yours truly to think up a romantic date…" Francis winked, taking the seat opposite Owain, "I'm quite good at the part that comes _after_ the date too, _non?"_

Rolling his eyes, Owain flipped over a little pamphlet that acted as a menu. He quickly decided he was in the mood for herbal tea and a huge scone to go with the café's signature dish of sausages and mash, "So what're you getting? I'll go order."

"Nope! I'm ordering. Think of me as the gentleman in the relationship." Francis smiled, taking Owain's hand.

"And what does that make me, Mr. Gentleman?" Owain said, a knowing smile on his face.

"My very beautiful lady, of course." Francis teased, "One that everyone in the land envies."

"Oh shut up and get me my herbal tea!" Owain smiled joyfully. He'd missed this, and now he had only Alastair to thank that somehow he'd managed to get it all back. The French accent and all.

* * *

"Do you have something old?"

"Yes, this headpiece!"

"Something new?"

"My dress, of course."

"Something borrowed?"

"That'll be my underwear."

"Lovely. And something blue?"

"My lovely blue page boys around me!"

The wedding had finally arrived.

Owain was putting the final touches to the ceremony. The argument from yesterday had ended bluntly, but the bride and groom had forgiven each other, so the wedding was to go on. The church was packed with family and friends of the Kirkland family – among them were Ivy and Daniel's school friends, people they'd met in work, their family, even some of their teachers. Dafydd, Scott, Finn and Jack were all in the front row, waiting for their ex-wife to walk up the isle. Each of them was a little tearful, but on the whole happy for Ivy. Apart from the fact she was marrying a complete cunt as Scott had quite happily described him. Next to the middle aged men sat Alfred, feeling extremely awkward and willing Arthur and the other brothers to hurry up down the isle so they could come and sit with him. Daniel was already waiting at the alter, feeling more than a little awkward that Ivy was late, as usual, and the crowd began muttering impatiently. That was, until a single note on the grand piano at the back of the church silenced them all instantly. Everyone turned around to see none other than Roderich Edelstein sitting at the stool. Once his silence had been granted, he began a very flamboyant version of the Bridal March, and through one of the open doors walked none other than the bride herself.

Alfred had never really paused to admire Ivy Kirkland's beauty. Not in a weird 'she's smokin' hot' kind of way; like the way a mother appreciates how beautiful her daughter looks when she's off to prom. Her long, blonde locks that she'd given to Arthur, Owain and Peter had been pinned up into a loose bun, deliberately letting random strands fall down in a wispy, mysterious way. Her bright green eyes were wide and joyful, enhanced by just enough mascara to compliment her. Her wild eyebrows that she'd given to every single one of her sons had been attempted to be tamed – they weren't as big and bushy as usual, but whoever had the depressing job of plucking them must've given up on the impossible job. Alfred was glad – a Kirkland wasn't a real Kirkland without their eyebrows.

As for Ivy's dress… well it was indescribably beautiful. Whoever had picked it must've seen how many visual metaphors and parallels it had of Ivy's personality, or it'd been a huge, almost impossible coincidence. The dress was simple and white, but by no means boring; Ivy looked like one of those simple, boring mums, but she was definitely neither of those. There were cute fluffy parts of the dress, mainly attached around the train, but around the arms were flowing, graceful pieces of opaque material. Ivy was both cute and adorable at times, while refined and mature at other times. Then of course there was a little crown of ivy leaves that lined her veil. Only Owain could plan something so well.

Speaking of the Welsh boy, he and his brothers were walking right behind Ivy, all wearing crisp black tuxedos, snow white cress shirts, marbled waist coats and prominent ice blue neckpieces. Owain and Peter with a cravat, the twin's two loose bowties, Alastair wearing a completely undone tie, while Arthur had his tie pushed up so far it looked like it might choke him. Each boy had a little green flower tucked into their button hole, complimenting the cool colour scheme perfectly. Alfred had to admit that Arthur looked _completely_ sexy in a suit and tie rather than his usual clothing taste. Now he looked like a true gentleman, and it was making Alfred blush.

Though, the focus of the room wasn't on the page boys and surprisingly not the bride either. It was who was holding the bride's arm, walking her up the isle. Everyone knows that the bride's father is meant to give her away, but then, if the bride's father has passed on – what do you do? Most people ask their uncles, perhaps ex-husbands or close family members to do it for them. Not Ivy, no, no. Ivy had picked her stand-in father to be none other than Miss Elizabeta Héderváry. Alfred's form teacher stool proudly next to Ivy, smiling comfortingly and muttering low words of support to the bride. She was wearing a beautiful dress, the same ice blue as the boy's neckpieces, but with little mint green flowers, the same as the ones that were in the button holes of Arthur and the others. Miss Héderváry did look stunning, and she seemed to compliment Ivy in such an odd way. Their personalities were completely different, Alfred knew that, but somehow they seemed to fit together perfectly. Hell, Alfred didn't even _know_ that Miss Héderváry _knew_ Ivy. He'd have to ask Arthur later.

The muttering seemed to suggest that Alfred was not the only one in the dark about the friendship between Miss Héderváry and Ivy. The whole crowed looked a little confused; even _Daniel_ standing right at the front of the alter looked completely lost. Alfred noticed Mr. Edelstein play a little louder as if to silence the mutterings, though it didn't work. The only ones that looked like they really knew what was going on, Alfred noticed was Feliciano's uncle, Mr. Vargas, Gilbert's father, Mr. Belischmidt (again, what the hell were they doing there?) Francis' mother, whose name Alfred didn't know, and all of Ivy's ex-husbands he was sitting next to. All three, with the addition of Jack, were smiling knowingly, shaking their heads.

"Man, Daniel's going to hate her when he finds out…" Finn shook his head, chuckling.

"Well he'll have us to answer to, won't he?" Scott grinned roughly, clenching a fist, "He deserves to be pummelled to the floor after what he's done to our sons… That bast-"

"Yes, yes, thank you for your input; it was much appreciated, Scott. Please remember we're in a holy place and there are kids around!" Dafydd smiled all-too-sweetly, looking at Alfred out of the corner of his eye.

"Aye, aye, whatever, Dafydd. You know, if our sons weren't as close as they are, I think I really might find you annoying…" Scott gritted his teeth, but smiled sweetly.

"Well, isn't that a shame…" Dafydd growled nicely. How someone can growl _nicely_ Alfred didn't know.

Jack, who was the only one sitting quietly like you're _meant _too rolled his eyes, "Give it a rest, both of you! You're like children…"

"Nice one, bro." Finn grinned at his brother, "Your nephews would be proud of you. Speaking of, they do look _pretty_ smart, don't you think?"

"Well, let's put it this way; I've never been able to get Alastair to even buy a tie." Scott grinned, "I'm guessing I can either blame Ivy or Owain."

"You know, you four are really loud…" Alfred muttered, getting conscious on how many people were glaring at them – Ivy and Daniel included.

"Sorry…" Dafydd muttered, blushing and shutting up, the other three copying his actions.

Ivy had now reached the front of the alter from her slow walk up the isle in time with Roderich's music. The Kirkland brothers smiled at their mother, all kissing her on the cheek in turn and then going to sit down in their seats, apart from Owain and Arthur, who skipped down to the back of the hall and traded places with Mr. Edelstein at the piano, letting Arthur sit at the stool, and Owain sit at a large harp. With a nod to each other, the two began playing. Ah, Alfred thought, this must be the infamous composition Arthur was trying his best to compose over the weeks. The piece went well with Owain's quiet harp, and somehow put a soothing smile on everyone's faces.

"Thank you, Elizabeta." Ivy smiled at Miss Héderváry.

"Ivy, it was my pleasure, honey," and, with that, the Hungarian leaned down (she was considerably taller than tiny little Ivy) and kissed her gently on the forehead. Taking the bride's hand, Miss Héderváry carefully took it and placed it gently into Daniel's outstretched palm, "Take good care of her," the teacher said, though everyone heard the silent 'or you'll have me to answer to' hanging about the air.

Daniel pretty much ignored Miss Héderváry as she took her seat with Alastair, Peter and the twins and Mr. Edelstein on the other side of the hall. Then, the priest cleared his throat, opening his book and began the service.

"You know," Finn muttered to Alfred, "We've all stood in his place," The rough Irishman pointed at Daniel, "and for all of us, the day that we stood at that alter was the best day of our lives. To this day it still is. Or for me it is."

Alfred smiled sadly, "It's a shame it didn't work out…"

"It really is…" Scott muttered, sounding quite emotional.

"Well, it's our loss…" Dafydd smiled sadly.

Thinking for a moment, Alfred quietly said, "You're all still in love with her, aren't you?"

Dafydd, Scott and Finn looked down at with, a little shocked, but then the three seemed to realise something, and with a look at one another, they seemed to agree to something mentally.

"You know, Alfred, you're one of the smartest American's I've ever met." Scott grinned, "I think you might be right about that."

**A/N**

**N'aww :'D that was fun to write! It finally feels like I'm giving the characters the ending they deserve X'D I'm quite fond of Ivy and Elizabeta's little scene in this chapter, and is it wrong that I bloody love the brother's dad? X'D Is it wrong for the writer to adore their own OCs? X'D they just make me giggle!  
TRANSLATION STUFF~**

**Okay, you probably know that _l'amour_ is 'love' in French, but yeah, just in case X'D  
'_Diolch yn fawr iawn'_ is 'Thank you very much' in Welsh ^^**

'**_Au revoir et bonne chance, ma cher'_ I HOPE is, 'Good bye and good luck, my dears' in French.  
And that is it with translation stuff X'D  
Also, that 'S&M' place is a real place. I've never been in there, but it does stand for 'sausages and mash' rather than the kinky alternate X'D you dirty minded people! But I've seen pictures of it, and it doesn't look that cosy :I so I changed it! XD  
Also, I've just realised that I overuse the face 'XD' XD  
One or two chapters left! X'D I plan for one, but hey, it'll probably be two! X'D  
See you in the future, loves~**


	37. Green Carnations

**Chapter thirty seven – Green carnations**

The rest of the ceremony continued happily, with the occasional sarcastic or funny whispered remark from one of Ivy's ex-husbands at the front. The three men with the addition of Jack and Alfred were getting many a glare off the surrounding crowd, but whenever Ivy looked over, she always beamed down at them, giving them a little wave.

After the ceremony and a rather mature kiss that was shared between the bride and groom which Scott and Alastair pretended to gag at, the crowd were all asked to make their way back to the Kirkland's house. On the way out of the tiny, beautifully decorated church, Alfred ran over to Arthur trying to get the answer to the question everyone was asking – why the hell was Miss Héderváry giving Ivy away?

"Artie!" Alfred grinned, pulling the Brit back so they could walk together, "what's Miss Héderváry doing here?"

Arthur shrugged, "I have no idea. It's something I plan on finding out, though…"

"Count me in! Awesome performance, by the way, and you're looking like a pretty gorgeous gentleman there…"

"Oh shut it you idiot…" Arthur muttered, eying Daniel making sure his dad wouldn't notice the homosexual flirting that was going on quite literally behind his back, "but thank you… you're not that bad yourself. Though you need one of these…" Arthur reached into his pocket, and brought out a little green flower, the same one he was wearing in his buttonhole.

Alfred eyed it cautiously, "Gee, I know you can pull the whole French-y buttonhole look off, but I don't really think it's for me…"

Rolling his eyes, Arthur turned up his lips, "Do you really think I'd voluntarily wear something French? This is a green carnation. It said on Wikipedia that these are often worn to support homosexuality. See, my dad doesn't know this…"

Gasping with sudden realisation, Alfred beamed, "No way! So this is your way to secretly get back at Daniel? Awesome! Pass me that flower, you little genius!" Alfred began fiddling around with the flower, attempting to pin it in his buttonhole.

"Yes, but look how many people are wearing them. We went to everyone, and explained it quietly, and anyone who agreed with our little plan quite happily wore a flower." Arthur pointed to the crowds around them exiting the church. There was Francis and his mother, both decorated in the flowers, Matthew, Gilbert, Ludwig, Mr. Belischmidt, Mr. Vargas and his daughters Roma and Felicia, and walking beside them were Lovino and Feliciano, all of them wearing the pretty flowers. Then of course there was Ivy, who was wearing quite a few of the flowers, though in not-so-obvious places, which is why Alfred hadn't noticed them before. Of course, all the Kirkland brothers, and now all of their fathers were wearing the flowers, apart from Peter. In fact, it seemed about the only person that _wasn't_ wearing a flower was Daniel. Well, and a few other women who looked very closely related to the man. Even Miss Héderváry and Mr. Edelstein were proudly wearing the flowers.

"It's a silent protest…" Arthur muttered, "Our own way to get back at my dad. I'm quite proud of myself for thinking of it."

"And so you should be! It's genius! Pure genius!" Alfred exclaimed happily, throwing his arms up in the air, "you know, I'm sure Daniel will be distracted later on in the night… I'm sure we could steal away a few hours of our own…"

Blushing, Arthur smiled shyly, "break that promise and I'll break your neck, Jones."

"Nothing in the world would make me break it, my hot-headed, adorable little Brit," Alfred breathed, grinning as he saw Arthur's ears turn a pretty pink colour. Oh he really was inexplicably adorable.

Meanwhile, Gilbert and Matthew were having their own secret flirting session.

"I heard Francis had a little chat with you, then?" Gilbert grinned, "Nice flower, by the way…"

Rolling his eyes at the albino, Matthew sighed, "Yes, he did. In fact he wouldn't stop having words with me. I've had a think… and… well…"

Smiling, Gilbert chuckled, "say no more, my little maple leaf! No wait, tell me… is _this_ what you were trying to say?" with a quick glance about to make sure that the only people that could see him were those wearing green flowers, Gilbert very softly pressed a kiss to Matthew's hand, then his cheek, and finally his lips. All completely chaste, and this was a change for Gilbert. Matthew was one of the rare people that had been allowed to see Gilbert's witty, romantic side, and the Canadian was finally appreciating it.

"Y-yes… that was something along the lines I was planning to say…" Matthew muttered, "But seriously, you need to be more careful. If Arthur's dad catches you, you'll be in deep."

"Ah, don't worry so much! Ivy adores me! I've only met her once of twice, but according to my dad and Elizabeta, I'm her favourite albino!" Gilbert flashed his teeth, "It's 'cause I'm so awesome."

"Sure, sure, honey." Matthew grinned, "N'aww, I'm kidding. I have to admit, Gilbert, you are incredibly awesome. Though since when were you on first name terms with Miss Héderváry?"

Winking, Gilbert folded his arms, "See, dear Matthew, there's a bit of a history between me and her. And that bastard Edelstein. She always used to look after me when I was little! She's friendly with my dad too, so I pretty much grew up with her!" Gilbert knew he was exaggerating now. The only reason he remembered Miss Héderváry looking after him was because of the stories she'd told him back when he'd been seeking advice, "then of course… you remember the 'issues' of last year…"

"Issues? I don't remember any issues?" Matthew narrowed his eyes in confusion.

Gilbert looked at the floor, blushing, "well, there was that whole thing about… y'know… me liking Elizabeta… remember?"

"I don't remember that…" Matthew frowned, for some reason not all too pleased at the news, "anyway, that's all in the past, yeah? I just want you to know that you have no reason to feel threatened by Francis. Although I can't say _all_ my feelings for him are gone, I hope they will be soon. I'm no cheater, and neither is Francis."

"Wait, who does Francis have to cheat on?" Gilbert frowned, "Apart from all those girls he woos into his bed… how he does that I don't know."

"From what I've heard, it seems he and Owain are back together…" Matthew nodded over to the French and Welsh boys, who were smiling and chatting with each other, both looking happier than they had done for a while, "I'm glad they've got each other again. Plus it'll make you feel more secure I'm sure."

Gilbert grinned roughly, "Ah, even if you _did _cheat on me with Francis – which I know you _wouldn't_ – I'd blame it all on him and make sure to give him a nice fist in the face. Though even though _those _two're happy… I'm a little worried about Alastair…"

Matthew shook his head, "To be honest I think this is good for him. It'll show him that he needs to make an effort to find someone as well. It'll force them to move along, right?" Matthew smiled, and then changed the subject, "but hell, how long is it taking us to walk to this house? And why the hell do we have to walk? You'd think they'd provide transport…"

"I think it's nice! Apparently the house is only down the road, so we won't be long. Plus it gives us time to talk!" Gilbert smiled, wishing that he could hug the Canadian, but knew the action wouldn't be worth the risk, as Daniel was looking his way.

Finally, after rounding a little corner, the crowds exiting the church were faced with the huge driveway of the Kirkland estate. Matthew and Gilbert practically fainted at the size of the place – it was pointlessly huge. _Gilbert's_ house was pretty big, and even he was shocked at looking at the place where Arthur and Peter had grown up.

"Jesus Christ." Matthew muttered, "I knew the Kirklands were pretty loaded, but this takes the biscuit." Gilbert grinned at Matthew's innocent choice of words.

"Well, I think it's true to say we have a _lot_ of exploring to do! Let's go and find Feli and my brother, and we will _raid_ this place! Though only after we've eaten. I'm _starving._"

"Message received and understood!" Matthew gave a rare whoop of enthusiasm, looking forward to what was destined to come of the evening.

Just across the path on the opposite side of the crowd were Feliciano and Ludwig, though Feliciano didn't seem to grasp the concept of 'no contact in public'. The naïve Italian just couldn't get _why_ he couldn't hug Ludwig or hold his hand – it was perfectly fine, right?

"No, no, listen Feliciano, I love it when you hold my hand, and it's fine when you do it in school and places like that, when you're with people that can _accept_ you. But right now, people like Mr. Kirkland-Evans," Ludwig pointed over to Daniel, who luckily was involved in a conversation with an elderly looking woman, "don't like it that we have a relationship, and it would cause an awful lot of problems for Arthur and his family if they found out we were dating, see?" Ludwig really hated himself for patronising Feliciano, but the Italian just _wouldn't understand._

And _still_ the Italian wouldn't understand, "But Ludwig, if I don't kiss you, then they won't know that we're in a relationship, right? They'll just think we're really, really close friends!"

The German sighed, beginning to loose all hope. Just when he was about to slowly talk Feliciano through the reasons why for the fifth time, Lovino came over, and grabbed Feliciano's arm.

"I'll take it from here." The older Italian frowned at the German, though there was an odd sense of peace in his voice. He definitely didn't sound _happy_ that he was talking to the German, but he wasn't acting as hot-headed and potty-mouthed towards Ludwig as per usual.

Catching on to the change of attitude, Ludwig narrowed his eyes, "You're not going to call me 'potato-bastard' or some other petty nickname? And why do you want to talk with Feli?"

"Ehh, because he's my _brother_ maybe? I don't need permission from you to talk to my own sibling!" Lovino's usual bite was back, but the teeth weren't as sharp as they had been previously, "I just need a word with him! And I'm not calling you 'potato-bastard' because I don't want to call you 'potato-bastard', thank you very much!"

Ludwig rolled his eyes, holding up his hands in mock surrender, "fine! Fine! Very sorry for aggravating you so much. Try and explain to Feliciano why he can't hug me while you're with him, though, will you?"

"Fine. Now scram." Lovino narrowed his eyes, not turning to talk to Feliciano until he'd seen that the German had gone over to Gilbert in search for company. "So, Feli… what Ludwig's telling you… you know it's important, right?"

Frowning, Feliciano sighed, "I don't get what the big deal is! So, I hug Ludwig, why does that affect other people?"

"I know, I know. It shouldn't, but because some people are painfully shallow, they don't like gays." Lovino explained slowly.

"Lovi, you don't have to patronise me! I know _that_ – that's homophobia!" Feliciano pouted, "Even _I_ know that."

The older brother internally ground his teeth, realising there was no winning in this situation. He'd have to be blunt, "Look, Feli. If you hug Ludwig, or show any form of loving attitude towards him, then some people here, like Arthur's dad, are going to get seriously pissed off. And when I say that, I mean more pissed off than me when I run out of tomatoes. You need to keep your distance from potato-bas—Ludwig, okay?"

_Finally_ the message seemed to be sinking into little Feliciano's naïve brain, "So why didn't Ludwig just tell me that? I get it _now!_" The Italian grinned adorably ignorantly, "But, Lovi, why aren't you calling Ludwig 'potato-bastard' any more? I'm glad you're not, but it doesn't really seem… like _you_… y'know?"

Nodding, Lovino frowned, "Well… Toni and I were talking… and he said that not only was it unfair to Ludwig to be a constant bastard towards him, but it was unfair to _you_. I mean I wouldn't like it if you constantly bullied Antonio with names and stuff, not that _you_ would – you're way too nice – so I figured, I'm bigger than that, right? I care about you, and I want you to be happy. So I'm not saying I'm planning on getting along with that stupid German, but I won't be a bastard towards him."

Feliciano stared at his brother for a moment, thinking about what he'd said, and, as soon as the message had sunk in, he attacked his brother with a bone-crushing hug – and that was _saying_ something for harmless Feliciano. "Y'know, Lovi, you're the _best_ brother in the _entire_ world!"

Lovino's face grew the shade of a tomato, his ears ready to burn up, "Ahh! What-the-fuck-ever! Just go and bug Ludwig or someone! Bye!" with that, the flustered brother ran off to go and talk to Roma, one of the only people he could actually get along with without too many problems.

Smiling secretly to himself, Feliciano giggled, and did indeed run off to Ludwig, just in time for the crowd to reach the top of the Kirkland's very, _very_ long drive. Ivy and Daniel stood at the front of the crowd on a rock, letting them be seen by everyone.

"Thank you _so_ much, everyone, for being here today. This wedding wouldn't be complete without all of you here!" Ivy smiled down at the crowd, "even those who are here for other people, your attendance is most appreciated!" she caught Matthew's eye sneakily and winked, "Now it is our time to give you something back! We apologise that the reception isn't in a big, fancy hotel, we just thought it'd be nicer to be surrounded by homely surroundings. My sons, especially Owain, have helped immensely with the decorating, so if you're going to congratulate anyone on how amazing the place looks – go right over to him! But, I'll stop talking – I know everyone is _very_ hungry – fear not, food is being made!"

There was a cheer from the crowd at the mention of food, everyone practically running through the huge double doors, childish grins on their faces as they followed Ivy, Elizabeta and Daniel through to where they were destined to get their stomachs filled.

The hall that everyone had run into was a real treat for the eyes. Alfred had never been inside this room – Owain had instructed him from the moment of entering the Kirkland household that he, along with anyone else was not to go inside the room, and had even gone so far to tape it off (Alfred did wonder where Owain got crime-scene 'Keep Out' tape from…) but now the American was beginning to see why he hadn't been allowed to even see the insides of the huge room.

Dotted around the room were lots of little tables, sitting about seven people as the maximum. As always in weddings, people's names had been written on little cards, and placed around everyone's respected seats. But this was no ordinary layout. The lights had been dimmed, and the very decorative curtains closed, the room only being lit by low-hanging lanterns. The lanterns were very small and dark, and the way they'd been positioned made it look like there were little balls of fire floating in mid air – it really did look impressive. There were little clusters of lanterns all around the tables, about ten to twenty hanging above each one, so there was enough light for you to see things, but not enough to ruin the effect.

As for the tables themselves, they'd been covered in either baby blue or pale green table cloths, with large white sashes draped across the table, on top of which large, very decorative looking flower vases were sitting. Inside the vases were collections of the same flowers most people were wearing on their dresses or in their buttonholes – green carnations, with a few blue ones to match the theme. The cutlery had been placed neatly either side of a large plate in everyone's places, and a little green bag rested on top of each plate, neatly tied with a blue ribbon, hiding away its insides. Alfred was seriously curious as to what was inside the little pouches.

That was not all that made up the room, however. There were random, oddly shaped ornaments dotted all around the sides of the room. They fitted with the very regal look the hall was radiating, and complimented the theme perfectly. Alfred wasn't too sure what the ornaments were or what they were used for, but they did look rather impressive and expensive. Owain had _really_ though about this!

Already, before anyone had sat down, neatly-dressed, rather French-looking waiters were offering around different wines to the adults, and a selection of appetisers to the children and teenagers. Alfred was quite flattered when a young maid came over and asked him if he'd like a drink, to which he grinned bashfully, rejecting the offer as he was underage.

As it turned out, Alfred was taken to his seat right to the front, on the largest table in the room. It was a sort of semi-circle shape, arching around so it could let the people sitting at it face all the other tables in the room, rather than some people having their backs to others. All the tables were very carefully places, Alfred realised, as they were all centred around the table he was being led to – obviously the important table – making sure everyone would be able to see the bride and groom if they so desired.

Thankfully, Alfred was not alone on this big table. He was pleasantly surprised that he had the honour of sitting on the bride's table, a seat next to Arthur and none other than Miss Héderváry. On the table was of course Ivy and Daniel, Peter on Daniel's left. Next to Peter sat Owain, then Alastair, then the twins, then Arthur, next came Alfred, and finally Miss Héderváry, who was on Ivy's left. It seemed the few people who weren't wearing green carnations who Alfred had deemed to be closely related to Daniel were not at all pleased that they weren't sitting on the table, yet Alfred _was_. Daniel didn't seem too pleased about that either.

"Hello there Alfred! I never expected to see you here! I see you've befriended the rest of the Kirkland family like the charming little American you are!" Miss Héderváry grinned down at Alfred, nudging him happily. "I bet you weren't expecting to see me here, either, were you?"

"No, Miss, I wasn't," Alfred smiled up at his teacher, "I didn't even know you knew Ivy!"

"Oh! A first name basis, are we? Quite the little charmer. Though I know who has your heart…" The Hungarian sneakily eyed Arthur, grinning creepily.

"Who?" Piped up Daniel. Arthur, Alfred and Elizabeta all froze guiltily, not realising the groom had been listening in.

"Ahh…" Alfred blinked, naming the first female that popped up into his mind, "Ehh… Elizabeth… Smith…?" Alfred suddenly realised he had no idea what Elizabeth's second name was, though Smith did seem to ring a distant bell.

Ivy looked up at this, "Oh! Little Elizabeth? That adorable girl with the pigtails? I thought she was dating you, Alastair?"

Alfred sent over apologetic looks at the internally-facepalming Alastair, "Ehh… Yeah. We broke up. Don't you remember me telling you about that whole fiasco on our first day?"

"Oh! Of course, I'm terribly sorry, sweetie!" Ivy smiled at her son, "Did you say you were dating anyone else?"

The look that Daniel gave Alastair seemed to imply that if he was ever going to accept his step-son as a man, Alastair'd have to answer 'yes' to that question. Alastair didn't want to seem to be like a complete loner.

"As a matter of fact… I am." Alastair answered.

"You are?" Owain, Miss Héderváry and Daniel all asked at once, looking more than a little shocked at his answer.

"Yes… Emily Jones." Alastair didn't sound as confident as he looked.

"Oh! That chick Matthew was dating? The awesome American? I didn't know you were dating her!" Alfred grinned, completely oblivious to the fact that it was a cover-up. "Nice one, man!"

"And now I think we should stop talking." The twins said simultaneously, grinning as they noticed how in-synch they were. Miss Héderváry nodded, seeming to understand that there was probably being to be a slip-up some time soon, and Daniel would find out something he probably shouldn't about what he thought were his heterosexual sons and step-sons.

There was a bit of an awkward silence at the table, while Ivy happily asked Owain and the twins about _their _love lives, all of whom just answered with something along the lines of 'uneventful'. Daniel frowned at this, but before he could say anything, a plate was shoved in front of him by a smiling waiter. Plates were also placed neatly in front of everyone else in the table, and presumably everyone else in the room – the food was _finally _here, Alfred thought happily as he began to dig into his starter.

Sadly, starters didn't take too long to eat, so before long, the table of ten were silenced and shoved back into their very awkward atmosphere.

"When in doubt, take a risk." Miss Héderváry grinned down at Alfred, and then, with a wink at Ivy, stood up on top of her chair, a grin on her face as she tapped her glass to call attention to herself.

"Hello, everyone!" The Hungarian grinned, immediately gaining control of the room, "Now, a lot of you don't know me – but, all you need to know is that I am Ivy's close friend from high school. For some of you I am your teacher, others I was also your friends. Now, this day isn't about me, as much as I dislike that! Ivy here has just got married. And I'm being nice and not adding in an 'again' there, Ivy." Elizabeta smiled down at Ivy, who was chuckling to herself, "So, first it was Scott. I remember those days! They were bloody hectic! Not only did I have to baby sit little Gilbert for Legolas over there, but I had to look after little Alastair too. Man he was a cute little kid. After Scott there was Finn, one of the maddest guys I have ever met. Finn, to be fair, you are a _legend._ Not only were you funny, but you were also kind and caring towards both Ivy and Shane and Colin. It's a real shame it didn't work out between you two, y'know? But I can't mention Finn without mentioning his equally awesome brother, Jack. Jack, you are an equal legend, if not more of one than your brother. For those of you who don't know, Finn could barely take care of himself after the divorce, let alone two twins. Luckily, Jack the Superhero swept in, and looked after little Colin in Northern Ireland while Finn got a stable job and got back up on his feet. Next on the list, we all know sweet Dafydd. All I can say, Dafydd, is _please marry me._ You're _perfect!_ Of course there is the slight problem that I am engaged, and you are only attracted to men, but hey – we can overcome it!" She then No, but seriously, you are one of the wittiest, most helpful, and just all-round stars I have ever met, and I've met some pretty gifted people. There were often times where Ivy felt down about herself, and no matter what, Dafydd could always put her radiant smile back on her face, and I cannot thank you enough for that, Dafydd.

"But, back to the people who are actually married. Daniel and Ivy. Ivy, you have no idea how much you deserve a happy marriage. I've watched you all these years slowly crush your own self-esteem through mistakes and break-ups, but hopefully there won't be any more. Ivy, you are one of _the_ oddest people I've ever met. You somehow manage to be elegant and graceful at the same time, you managed to be forever relaxed, yet so disorganised. You're like a combination of all the things that should never work, but somehow do. And you know, what? It's one of the best combinations I've ever witnessed. I am so glad I met you when I was younger, and I'm thankful for teaching each and every one of your amazing sons. And, I know that Stephanie, Legolas, Roderich and Roma all stand with me on this – you were our best friend, and you still are! The nineteen sixties for the win! As for you, Daniel, there has been a lot of… discussion in our big family about you. I'm being one hundred percent honest with you here. Every one of us in here with a green flower on us somewhere is Ivy's family. We're the ones that love her and protect her – we are her family, whether we are related by blood or not. You are now entering that family, and if you disappoint us and hurt Ivy in some way, we _will_ have serious words. Missiles may be involved. But that's enough doom from me! Apparently the food is on it's way! I never knew I was talking for so long… I know I'm not your average speech-giver, but we all need a bit of change, right? Congratulations!" Elizabeta grinned, clapping her hands as she jumped down from her chair, only to stand up again to propose a toast for 'the family of green flowers', choosing to ignore the rather obvious glares she was getting off Daniel.

Alfred grinned at his teacher as she sat down next to him once again, "You rocked that speech, Miss. Seriously, I bet you it'll be better than anyone else's later on."

"Well, I try my best… I'm glad you like it!" Elizabeta winked, and then happily smiled at a waiter as he passed her a plate.

Alfred then felt a tap on his shoulder, turning around, his face lightening when he saw it was Arthur who'd requested his attention, "Is it me, or do you feel that there's something… more about mum and Miss Héderváry?"

"I do know what you mean…" Alfred muttered, dropping his voice even lower"… kinda like with me and you before we started… y'know… _dating_… Like there's some weird tension there."

"Top secret mission to find out what went on?" Arthur said with a confident smile.

Mirroring his expression, Alfred gave the Brit a thumbs up, "Count me in!"

After the very delicious food, there were more speeches. Alastair even got up and said a few words, though they were more pessimistic hints at how much he hated Daniel than words of congratulations. Dafydd, Scott, Finn and even Jack took it in turns saying things about how much they loved Ivy, and wished her well in the future. Daniel then took his turn, boring the whole room to death with stories about how he and Ivy had met in a library where their eyes just met over a shelf. Most of the room silently snorted at that – it was no secret the way Daniel and Ivy had come to cross paths, which was, of course, prostitution. Alfred found it quite amusing how everyone's speeches were how awesome _Ivy_ was, and how they loved _Ivy's_ sons, and that they wished _Ivy_ good luck and prosperity for the future. The only person to dedicate their speech to Daniel was one of the old women, who revealed her identity to be Daniel's mother, without a green carnation tucked into her very badly fitting, unflattering woman-suit-thing.

The speeches were over, Ivy cried because she was so happy and a little bit tipsy already. Desert was served, jokes were cracked, and three hours later, Alfred found himself sprawled out across some random sofa, completely exhausted. Unfortunately, he was only halfway through the night.

The after-party had begun an hour earlier, but luckily he and Arthur had been able to escape the noise with the excuse of wanting to get changed – though even in their more casual clothes, the green carnations stayed pinned to their chests proudly. Now though they were faced with the inevitable and rather unpleasant fate of having to waltz randomly into a room full of drinking, and now probably drunk adults, whom they'd have to interact with the entire night, and pretend to have fun and interesting conversations with them. They'd _much_ prefer to run upstairs and lock themselves in the bathroom.

"Well, we can't put it off for much longer…" Alfred grinned, "Hey, we can complete our super-secret mission while we're here, right?"

"Right." Arthur agreed, smiling, and squeezing hold of Alfred's hand, before letting it go to push open the door. The two walked right into a wall of noise, heat and the smell of alcohol. It wasn't as off-putting as they'd deemed it to be, though for two thirteen year old boys, it was hardly inviting.

Time to face the after party!

**A/N**

**Okay, so that wasn't the end X'D  
THE NEXT CHAPTER PROBABLY DEFINITELY WILL BE HOPEFULLY.  
X'DD oops X'D I was planning on making it the last chapter, but I realised that if I did, it'd probably be about 7,000-10,000 words long X'D and I don't know about you guys, but I really don't like reading chapters that long – I just get bored of them, and start skipping bits ._.  
But fear not! Because I didn't plan on making two more chapters, I've actually written more than this, and just sliced the end bit off to make this a neat little end for this chapter, so I have made a reasonable dent into the first half of the next chapter :D so you can expect that up soon, I hope!  
I'd have got this up sooner, but as I was writing it last night, my brother called me into the living room because there was a new Doctor Who trailer on, and I spent about half an hour re-watching it and fangirling ASSDFHDKJLJSDFKSLJ IT LOOKS AMAZING. OH THE FEELINGS. And then I got distracted by Youtube XD and then my Hetalia DVDs came QAQ I'M SORRY X'D  
So yeah X'D sorry about that! But thank you for your wonderful, wonderful reviews! /GLOMP/ :'D I'm so glad I made it over 300! (lol I almost typed 3000 X'D) It really does mean an awful lot to me! All of you readers are AWESOMELY AMAZING. Love you guys!  
Over and Out! FOR NOW! XD**


	38. Happily Ever Afters

**Chapter thirty eight – Happily Ever Afters**

Little did Arthur and Alfred know, the after-party was actually a lot more enjoyable than they'd imagined. They knew they alcohol made adult more fun to be around, if not a little more intimidating, but they had no idea what it was like to be drunk _themselves,_ apart from Arthur's very distant, very painful memories of a few Christmases ago, where he'd sworn he was never going to consume alcohol ever again. And then a few weeks ago at the end of school party, but both Alfred and Arthur agreed that it was nothing like getting drunk with older, more experienced, funnier people rather than a bunch of your nervous classmates.

They weren't _really_ drunk, of course – what parent would let their sons get completely plastered when they were only thirteen? No, Ivy had permitted Arthur to only a few drinks, and advising Alfred heavily to only drink the same amount, as she wouldn't be too proud of herself if she got an angry phone call off Alfred's mother complaining about the fact that Ivy had permitted the American to drink so much he vomited his guts out. Alfred happily agreed to this, because as girly as it sounded, he actually didn't _like_ the taste of alcohol… it was too bitter.

Arthur on the other hand quite happily downed his drinks, and was quite tipsy soon after – not that the very sober Alfred cared; he found it cute that Arthur had fallen asleep on his lap. It was nice to see Arthur's raw feelings for once rather than masked in embarrassment and pride issues. Alfred knew the Brit did get flustered easily, but it _was_ satisfying to hear him say the things he _really_ thought.

Alfred felt the weight of the sofa he was sitting on change a little, and looked up to see Miss Héderváry grinning at him, "Hey there, Alfred! Getting a bit cosy with Arthur, aren't you? I'd watch out for Daniel if I were you…"

"I know… he's out prowling upstairs for now, so we're okay… or I think we will be for a while. If he _does_ see me, then I think I'll just say Arthur just _fell asleep_ on me – which is kinda true – and that I didn't have the heart to wake him up."

"Ah, I'm sure you'll be fine! It's not like you're the only cuddling couple in here…" Elizabeta said, pointing around the room to various couples, gay and straight, "He's got his work cut out for him. Not that I care. I hope he dies of overwork, that bastard…"

"So you don't like him either?" Alfred smiled at the news.

"Of course I don't! Who _does?_ He drives me _insane!_ And if he knew _anything_ about mine and Ivy's past, I'm sure he'd do a double-take. He's so ignorant!" she growled, but then went back to her usual self, "But yeah… don't let him get you down!"

"Wasn't planning on it, miss!" Alfred said with a smile, glad his teacher was worrying about him, "But… what to you mean 'yours and Ivy's past'?"

"No, no, no! Wait! I want to know to! Slow down! I want to freaking hear this!"

Miss Héderváry and Alfred looked up to see Gilbert running towards them at full pelt, a creepy grin on his face, dragging Matthew behind him, "I want to know about this past!"

"But Gilbert, I've already told you…" Elizabeta narrowed her eyes, "It's not much of a big deal… I'll tell you again then," she grinned, "Oi! Ivy! Get your frilly, perfect white ass over here!"

"Liz? What's up?" Ivy smiled, wondering over.

"These nosy kids want to know 'bout me and you," Elizabeta said with a wink, "Y'reckon we should tell them?"

"Ahh… they saw through our 'friendship' act, did they…?" Ivy toyed with the suggestion for a minute, taking a seat next to Elizabeta, "Yeah, why not?"

"Awesome!" Gilbert and Alfred grinned, high-fiving to celebrate their victory. Alfred then decided it'd probably be best to poke Arthur awake so that he could hear the odd past between his mother and his form teacher, as Alfred knew that the Brit would not want to miss out on this.

After Arthur had been gently woken, and he'd stopped grumbling about waking up on Alfred's lap, Elizabeta began her explanation.

"I'm surprised you didn't fit the pieces together, Gilbert. Remember I told you about that girl I dated in high school?"

Gilbert's jaw dropped open, "_No way._"

"What?" Matthew, Alfred and Arthur chorused, completely innocent to the knowledge of Elizabeta's rather crazy teenage years.

Elizabeta grinned roughly at their reactions, "Yeah! Ivy and I were together. A couple! A pretty famous one at that, weren't we?"

Nodding, Ivy slung an arm around Elizabeta, "We were indeed! I was famed in my school for being a bit of a slut, which I suppose was kinda true. Being friends with Stephanie – Francis' mother – didn't really help that reputation, as I'm sure you can imagine. But this negative attention caught Lizzie's eye… We started hanging out, despite the fact we were polar opposites. I was your average girly-girl slut; blonde hair, pink fluffy accessories, chiwawas in handbags. Well, I wanted one, but I couldn't afford one. Then you had Elizabeta, who was your punk-rock princess. Well, I should say _prince_ really, as that was the image you were aiming for, wasn't it?"

"Oh _God…"_ Elizabeta flushed, "Yeah… I was trying to act all like how _guys_ are meant to act… I wanted that whole 'wow, she's so cool!' Image that made younger girls swoon. I think I saw an anime or something which gave me the idea…"

"Well you _did_ have a pretty impressive fan-club…" Ivy argued.

"An even bigger hate-club, though…"

Alfred, Arthur, Matthew and Gilbert were staring at the pair of women, their jaws hitting the floor. It was _insane_ to see these two discuss this sort of thing – they didn't _mind_ it… but it was just so _obscure!_

"S-So… _you dated?"_ Alfred asked, still trying to make sure he'd heard everything right.

"Man, you're a slow one, aren't you?" Elizabeta grinned, "Yes, we did. How long was it for?" she asked Ivy.

Ivy counted off on her fingers, silent for a second, "I think I was thirteen when you asked me out… and how many years in between us is there? Two isn't it? And we broke up a few weeks after your eighteenth birthday… so we dated for… three years, about!"

"Three _years?"_ Arthur choked, "So it was serious?"

"Yeah! You remember me telling you, Gilbert – I said I was pretty distraught after the break up, remember? I skipped out on collage and everything, and was pretty stranded. Well, it wasn't as bad as you…" Elizabeta patted Ivy comfortingly.

"Why? What happened with you, Ivy?" Matthew muttered, very engaged.

"Well, the night I broke up with Lizzy I went into a pub to drink away my problems… and I ended up meeting Scott, Alastair's dad… and well… let's just say that's how Alastair came about…" Ivy smiled fondly, looking over at Alastair who was having a rather heated conversation with Francis.

Arthur stared at the two of them for a moment, "Why the hell didn't you tell me that my _teacher_ was your ex girlfriend, mum?"

"I don't really know… It didn't really _occur_ to me to tell you, y'know?" Ivy smiled naïvely, "But hey! You know now, right?"

Gilbert was blushing very obviously at this point, "So… _why_ did you start going out?"

Elizabeta shrugged, "We told you – I was acting all 'princely', Ivy found it hot. I caught her attention, we started hanging out, and I thought she was cute, so I asked her out on a date. Luckily for me, she was pretty fond of me too, and rather than getting creeped out like I was worried she might, she accepted it with the most _adorable_ blush on her face!"

"That's because you were just so _charming_…" Ivy muttered, pouting slightly with a little blush on her face, "I do miss you, Liz – we need to hang out more!"

"You bet we do! If your sons weren't so damn smart then I'd have an excuse to talk to you more! I'd get to call home and complain about their 'despicable behaviour' and then get talking to you. Sadly they've been brought up like little angels… Well, _most_ of them…" Elizabeta shot a gaze over to Alastair who was now ruffling Owain's hair fondly.

The boys were feeling quite forgotten in the conversation, all still trying to get over the fact that their teacher and Arthur's _mother_ had been dating. They knew it was incidentally hypocritical, but they just couldn't really get over it! Arthur was especially shocked, though a little proud and more than happy that his mother was also hiding in the closet from Daniel. Perhaps that would mean that _he_ would be able to come out if she did…

The phrase 'speak of the devil' came to mind a moment later, when none other than Daniel wondered over, raising his eyebrow at how close Ivy and Elizabeta were sitting, "Ivy, Elizabeta," he nodded at them in turn, "Is everything okay?"

"Better than okay, Danny! I was just telling these curious kids about how I used to screw your wife!" Elizabeta announced loudly with a grin.

"_Lizzie!"_ Ivy clapped a hand over her mouth, though it wasn't in anger – she was trying to refrain from giggling.

"_What?_" Daniel said, raising an eyebrow, "Now I highly doubt that."

"Oh now wouldn't you love that? Guess what, Daniel – your wife and I were childhood sweethearts," The Hungarian was now practically snarling.

Daniel, who was now slightly worried turned to Ivy, raising an eyebrow, "Ivy? Care to explain what the hell your insane friend is talking about?"

Ivy looked from Elizabeta to Daniel, and from them right at Arthur. Arthur wasn't entirely sure why his mother seemed to be consulting with _him_; after all, she had no idea about him hiding in the closet with her, surely? She didn't know anything about him and Alfred, surely.

"S-She's not lying, Daniel," Ivy muttered, avoiding his eyes.

"_What?_" Daniel repeated, "Are you saying…?"

"Elizabeta and I dated in high school. For a long time. It got serious. But then we broke up…" Ivy explained briefly, "I-I'm bisexual."

Arthur, Alfred, Gilbert, Matthew and Elizabeta all shared a triumphant grin at Daniel's goldfish impressions.

"And you didn't think to tell me this _before_ I married you? Perhaps if I'd known you were… _like that_ I'd have a completely different angle on our relationship!" Daniel shouted. The conversation was drawing more and more attention to the little group and before they all knew it there were quite a few people crowded around them.

"Don't you _dare_ talk to her like that!" Elizabeta growled, "What's wrong, Daniel? Can't face the fact that your beloved wife used to like women? Do you feel _threatened_ by me – that's it, isn't it? You're _scared _of an 'inferior' little _bisexual woman!_ Well, let me tell you, Daniel, I've done my fair part of trying to be a guy; and I've studied martial arts. Bring it on."

Suddenly, before anyone else had chance to reply, none other than Roderich, who'd quietly been watching the situation unfold, joined in, "Daniel, you're a complete _idiot_. You say all this stuff about homosexuals – you say they're wrong, and homosexuals are freaks of nature, but you have just proven it yourself – they're no different to anyone else!"

"Oh, well I'd love for you to enlighten me, _Roderich_," Daniel said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "How have I proven such a thing?"

"Well, you didn't know that your wife was in fact bisexual until this moment, no? Which proves that there is _no_ way of identifying someone's sexuality – well, unless it is blindingly obvious – but you don't know _anything_. In this room there might be ten gays – there might be fifty. The fact it, it doesn't affect you in _any_ way. It won't make you die sooner, it won't give you a disease, it won't make you like men as well – not that there'd be anything wrong with that. Just because the Bible says that it is a sinful act, it doesn't mean that it is _true_. I'm sure you agree with me when I say that Adam and Eve were simply analogies in the Bible, rather than real people."

"Yes, but…"

"No, there are no '_buts'_ in this! You need to get over yourself Daniel. You need to wake up and realise that not everyone should be exactly like you. You know, Hitler thought that, didn't he? He wanted to make a race that was just like him. I'm sure I can assume that you know Hitler was an evil man." Roderich continued, everyone watching him, rather stunned.

"Are you trying to imply that I might be a Nazi?" Daniel growled, now defensive.

"Of course not, and you _know_ I'm not. I'm saying that you shouldn't adopt the _principles _of a Nazi." Roderich finished with a glare, "That is all."

Elizabeta stared at her fiancé for a moment, jaw hanging open, before she patted Ivy on the shoulder, ruffling Gilbert's hair and took off after Roderich, who was already wondering off. Everyone grinned when they heard Elizabeta say not-so-subtly to him, "I'm _so_ turned on right now."

"So, Daniel? What're you going to do now?" Ivy glared at her newlywed.

Daniel stopped for a moment, not doing anything. Arthur watched his dad with a very weary eye, knowing that he was most definitely up to something. And that something probably wouldn't be too beneficial to anyone.

"You're right. I'm sorry, Ivy. I was wrong." Daniel looked at the ground, hanging his head in shame. Everyone practically did a double-take at this – no one had expected _that_…

"O-Oh…" Ivy ushered, as equally taken aback as the rest of the room, not realising she was going to get through to him so easily, "I-In that case… thank you. You're forgiven."

At that, the Kirkland brother with the addition of their friends and a few members of the crowd all set their jaws. Ivy was just going to _accept_ that? Hell no. Daniel was up to something. "Mum, are you _seriously_ going to take that crap!? You know Daniel even better than me, and I think everyone in this room knows that he's not serious in the slightest! He's just agreeing with you so he can avoid a conflict in the middle of everything here! I bet you later you're not going to hear the end of it!" Shane complained, Colin and Alastair nodding along.

While the arguments continued, Arthur, who was wondering when the best time for him to interject would be, felt a light tug on his arm, and looked up to find Alfred looking at him with big eyes, "C-can we go?" he muttered, "I really feel awkward…"

"I know the feeling…" Arthur muttered, "C'mon. We can escape… just creep out while no one's looking…"

Watching the pattern of the conversation very carefully, Arthur managed to slide out without anyone noticing, and beckoned for Alfred to follow him. Luckily once they were out of the middle of the huge circle of pretty much all the guests that had gathered, they were clear to make a run for the door. Grinning like idiots, Arthur and Alfred found each other's hand, yanking the door open and darting up the stairs before anyone could stop them.

They only stopped running when they reached the safe insides of Arthur's room, slamming and bolting the door shut behind them. The pair exchanged a gleeful glance, only to look away a little bashful. It seemed that the weak effects of Arthur's tipsiness had worn off a while ago now – that was a shame, Alfred thought…

Without saying another word, Alfred felt a hand gently taking off his glasses, placing them on the desk. A few seconds later, everything went black, as Arthur's hand had covered his bright blue eyes. Alfred was more than a little confused at what the hell Arthur was doing, but just as he opened his mouth to ask, another pair of lips silenced him.

Hang on. Was this Arthur attempting to be _dominant?_

Alfred almost wanted to laugh aloud at the idea of the flustered little Brit attempting to seduce him, but it seemed like that was what he was trying to do now. He was most definitely dominating the game of tonsil-tennis they were having, and it was a rather weird sensation to be _submissive._ It wasn't _unpleasant_, but it didn't feel normal, either…

Arthur quickly broke away, giving Alfred back the gift of sight, "I'm sorry. I've wanted to do that _all day, _and it's been driving me _insane_. But being dominant is… weird."

"I say the same about being submissive…" Alfred blinked a few times, trying to get over Arthur's aggressive attack, "Is _this_ better…?" Alfred mimicked Arthur's actions from before, covering the Brit's emerald gaze with his hand, and pressed his lips on to Arthur's, gently turning the kiss from chaste to heated. Before either of them knew it, Alfred's hand had left Arthur's eyes, giving him back his sight, but had moved down it Brit's back, resting on his lower back, the other hand entwined in Arthur's messy hair, pressing their lips further together. Arthur quite happily let Alfred take care of everything, and just did what he was told, clinging on to Alfred's T-shirt for dear life in a huge hug.

Before either of them knew it, though, they broke apart, panting for breath. Then they realised that Arthur's shirt was unbuttoned, and Alfred's jeans were undone.

_This_ had never happened before…

"I-I…" Arthur stuttered, "N-Not ready."

Alfred blinked a few times, "No! No, neither am I! I didn't mean – I didn't know I was… eh… _doing that_… No, no, I'm not ready, either. Don't worry."

"G-Good. I just don't want to do that until we're older. A _lot_ older. Like sixteen older." Arthur whispered, buttoning his shirt back up.

"Well, I've got three years to read up on it all!" Alfred grinned playfully, hugging Arthur, "Don't worry; really I wasn't trying to suggest anything when I did that… I just followed my head, and didn't really think about what I was doing. I don't want it either. Yet."

"D-D'ya think we'll do it?" Arthur said, meeting Alfred's gaze, "When we're ready, like… But d'ya think we'll still be together?"

"Of course we will be!" Alfred smiled optimistically, though deep in the pit of his stomach he knew he was asking the question, "A-And even if we're not, then we'll have broken up for a _really_ good reason."

There was silence for a moment, "I don't want to break up with you." Arthur decided.

"I don't want to break up with you either." Alfred replied, equally sure.

"That settles it. There is no logical way we can break up," Arthur smiled weakly.

"I wish life was logical…" Alfred muttered, snuggling his head into Arthur, the two of them just sitting there entwined in their hug. They didn't move for what felt like hours, but was probably only minutes, and the only reason they broke away was because Alfred's phone began vibrating and buzzing, begging for attention from Alfred.

Growling in frustration at his technology, Alfred flipped his phone out of his pocket, reading the message quickly.

"What did it say?" Arthur asked, craning his neck to see the text.

"Gilbert wants us to go downstairs… 'pparently there's a huge cake or something…" Alfred tried to make the phrase sound nonchalant, but Arthur could hear the strain in the American's voice – he _really_ wanted that cake.

"We can go if you want?" Arthur smiled, patting Alfred's back, "There's limited pieces of cake, and this room will always be here… We may as well go and grab some."

Whooping with job, Alfred punched the air in victory, "_Hell yeah! Wedding cake!_ Oh, and Gil also wants us to find Francis and Owain, and in his own words 'separate their perverted body parts and tell them to get the fuck down here so they can see the awesome me'."

"Our hunt begins…" Arthur grumbled, climbing up from the bed, walking out of the door, but making sure not to leave before safely entwining his hand with Alfred's.

* * *

It didn't take long to find Owain and Francis, as they'd been doing exactly what Arthur and Alfred had been doing, only a few steps along. They were inside Owain's room, 'celebrating the fact that they'd got back together' as Francis had smoothly told them. The two had been found shirtless, Francis teasing a very sensitive area on Owain's chest; or that's only what innocent Arthur and Alfred could assume Francis was doing by Owain's moans of pleasure.

Once Owain and Francis had out their shirts back on and apologised for their 'inappropriate behaviour' (the fact that they were smirking when they apologised wound Arthur up even more) the four of them headed down the huge staircase, complaining about how their alone time had been interrupted.

The four sneaked through the door unnoticed, and it seemed like no one had noticed their absence – to which Francis' gave a might pout – until they were bombarded by Gilbert, who was dragging Matthew behind him, five pieces of cake in his hand. How he carried so many pieces without dropping them was a miracle.

"You _actually_ came! I had no idea you were _that_ big a fatass, Alfred! Giving up your beloved for a piece of cake! _English _cake at that!" Gilbert was sniggering, and ignored Alfred, who simply glared at the albino, yanking his piece of the pastry out of his hand.

"Don't worry, Alfie, I know I'll always come second to food," Arthur chuckled, patting Alfred's shoulder.

"_Artieeeee!_ Don't join the dark side! You know I'm not fat – I just like eatingggg~" Alfred said in his whiney tone, only half-serious.

"Ignore them, Alfie," Matthew smiled, "They're just worried you'll die of heart failure."

"Mattie, not you _too!"_

The group were all taking it in turns picking on Alfred, who continued with his childish moaning, but before the American could get too distraught at the fat jokes getting fired at him, Lovino caught their attention.

"Fuck you, Antonio!" the Italian shouted into his mobile, and, after listening to a reply, shouted back, "Well, if you _really_ loved me, you'd get you're ass on a plane and come up here and save me!" he paused listening to Antonio's response, "I don't care that the flight would take so long that the wedding would be over! Find a way to teleport! I'm wasting all my money on you here – do you _know_ the international call rates? And I don't care that you have to pay them too!"

"Bloody hell, talk about high-maintenance…" Arthur muttered, watching Lovino warily.

"At least I'm a better boyfriend than _him,_ Artie!" Alfred said, proud of himself.

"You do have a point. And I was only kidding before – I'll love you no matter how fat you get."

"I'm _not_ going to get fat!" Alfred protested again.

Meanwhile, Lovino was not having fun with his phone call.

"Look, Lovi, I'm sorry – I miss you to b-"

"I _do not _miss you, bastard!" Lovino spat into his receiver.

Antonio paused for a second on the other side, "Wait, Lovino – have you had anything to drink? You're usually demanding and venomous, but not _this_ much…"

"Fucking bastard! I'm completely sober! I may have had a _few_ sucky English beers, but _hell_ they were so bad I had to stop drinking them," he paused to hiccup, "But if you're trying to say I can't hold my liquor, then you're fucking _wrong!_ I'm _completely _sober. Could drive an army of cars if I need to."

"Yeah… I thought so…" Antonio muttered, knowing full well that Lovino was lying his back teeth out, "Lovi, I really, really miss you, my sweet…"

"Shut the _fuck_ up – you tryin' to embarrass me!?"

"Such foul language, Lovi! Hang on, just let me finish, okay?"

"Fine. But hurry the fuck up, bastard, 'cause I'm running outta money!"

"Okay, okay, I'm hurrying my love. We've been apart… three weeks now. You have no idea how much I've been missing you. Yesterday a turtle came and climbed on my head, and I decided to call him Lovino! He's so small and cute, but he does have a bit of a temper – y'know he bit me the other day because I took his lettuce away from him!"

"Retard, turtles can carry salmonella! M-make sure to get yourself checked out. _Not that it bothers me._ It would just suck for Francis and Gilbert if you died."

"Aww, Lovino, thank you for worrying about me. I'll make sure to go to the family doctor tomorrow. But I don't want to talk about that. I want to talk about _you_. Did you know our family has a maid, and she's got a son… he's only about six or seven, and he came around to visit us the other day. He's adorable, y'know? He _loves_ me – they had to drag him away from me when it was time for him to go. His name's Lovino, too… She married an Italian."

"Y-Yeah. That doesn't mean _anything_. I knew a guy called Antoine, but I didn't adore him. Actually he was a bit of an asshole."

"Lovino."

"What?"

"I've never loved anyone as much as I love you, you know? When I get home from Spain, I'm going to take you in my arms, and I won't stop kissing you until I either die from dehydration, or die from you punching me to get off you."

"So either way you're going to freaking die. That's _great_ isn't it?"

"Would you miss me?"

"What?"

"If I died – would you miss me?" Antonio whispered gently.

"Bastard… don't think about stuff like that…" Lovino growled into the reciever.

"I love you." Antonio said back, making Lovino's heart skip a beat.

"Fuck… L-love you too." Lovino whispered back, a lot calmer than before – that was until he realised that the line had gone dead. What? The Italian impatiently clicked the buttons on his mobile, trying to figure out why on earth the line had gone dead – unless that bastard Antonio had cut him off…

The reason became apparent not long after, as Lovino received a text from his service provider, telling him that he was out of credit., "Well that's fucking _brilliant…_ Just as I pluck up to courage to say I fucking love him and it fucking ends the call…"

"Lovi? What's the matter?" Feliciano wondered over, Ludwig tagging behind them. The Lovino had an idea.

"Feli, gimme your phone. Like, now." Lovino demanded, shooting his hand out.

Feliciano looked at him, confused, "What? Why?" but nevertheless the innocent Italian reached inside his pocket and handed over his phone.

Lovino quickly figured out how to send a message, and entered in Antonio's number (don't fucking ask why he knew the fucking number!) quickly typing a message and sending it, "Thanks, Feli." And, with that, Lovino wondered off, muttering about stupid Spaniards.

"Hey, Ludwig – I'm curious what Lovino put!" Feliciano grinned, "Shall we peek?"

"_Ja,_ why not?" Ludwig smiled at Feliciano's grin, as the Italian went over to the 'sent messages' folder, and read aloud the last sent text.

"It says 'And yeah, you bastard, I'd miss you if you died. So don't go falling off any fucking cliffs. _T-Ti amo,_ bastard.' Awww! That's so _cute!_ I knew Lovino had a soft side!" Feliciano swooned at his brother's mysterious air, "I wish I was as romantic as he is!"

Ludwig chuckled, "Trust me, Feliciano, you're fine just the way you are," the German took Feliciano's hands softly, "So don't change, okay?"

Feliciano nodded happily, "Message received and understood, commander!"

"You're an oddball…" Ludwig chuckled, ruffling Feliciano's hair fondly, "That's why I love you so much."

* * *

It was late into the night, beginning on the early hours of the next morning, but of course no one was leaving. Even Mr. Belischmidt and Roderich had dislodged the sticks that'd been stuck up their asses, and had given in and finally had a few drinks. As for the younger generation, well, as their parents were in reckless frames of mind, they'd been given permission to raid the alcohol, and had run up to Arthur's room to go and experience binge drinking.

Up in Arthur's little room they had managed to crap Alastair, the twins, Owain, Arthur, Peter, Alfred, Lovino, Feliciano and their two cousins Felicia and Roma, Gilbert, Matthew, Francis and Ludwig. The group of fifteen were strewn out all across the room, selected couples completely ignoring the alcohol, as the only thing they were interested in was their lover's body. Of course, nothing freaky happened, but there was some heavy kissing – especially between Owain and Francis.

"I fucking miss Antonio…" Lovino growled, taking a gulp of Smirnoff. "Damn that bastard… running off to Spain…"

"At least you fucking _have_ someone," Alastair gritted his teeth, "I'll be fuckin' forever alone like my dad – I'll probably only get laid when I go and _buy_ myself sex."

"But you're fucking _Scottish,_ you pervs can get in anyone's pants – you're like the fucking _French_."

Shane and Colin were busy going around, spiking people's drinks with a stronger vodka they'd found downstairs. Usually they'd have the help of Gilbert, but their albino trouble-making friend was glued to Matthew in the corner, completely oblivious to the fact that the twins had replaced all his booze for a terrible mix of cider and milk – a recipe that the twins had thought up on their own, and found to be terribly disgusting.

Arthur and Alfred, rather miffed at the company they seemed to have gained (the two had planned to escape the room unnoticed, but Gilbert had seen the bottles in their hands, and had naturally rounded up their entire friendship group) but nevertheless were kissing like there was no tomorrow. The two took extra care to make sure nothing like before happened, and made sure they weren't to drink a thing – they wanted their shirts to stay _on_ thank you very much – and, ignoring Feliciano who was muttering things in Italian to Ludwig that sounded less-than-innocent, the two shared their love for one another.

That was, until they heard a knock at the door.

The whole room froze, jumping away from whoever they were kissing, or shutting up about whatever they were complaining about to their friends. No one was too worried about who was at the door for the moment, until they heard a voice call through the wood.

"Arthur, where the _hell_ are you? If I find you're in there, there is going to be _ructions_. Get your lazy arse downstairs and be a bit more sociable for once in your life – you complain you have no friends – maybe _this _is why?"

None other than Daniel was at the door. Arthur blinked a few times, giving wide eyed stares to anyone who was looking at him, telling them to _be quiet!_

"Fine. You're not in here – I'd be surprised if you were. You're clever than that, surely. You knew I'd come looking for you here. Oh bloody hell I'm talking to a door…" there was a sound of footsteps, confirming that Daniel was gone.

The group shared a sigh of relief, though none went back to doing what they were before, as most were still on-edge about Daniel returning, Arthur included.

Five minutes later though, all thoughts of Daniel were forgotten, as Gilbert had revealed that he was hiding two bottles under a pillow he was sitting on. He'd intended to keep them for later, apparently, but since Lovino had drunk most of the alcohol in the room, and was now asleep on Roma's lap, Gilbert had decided it would be safe to drink more without getting it snatched of them by Lovino. The noise started up again, as did the drinking and the kissing, and the general rowdiness of the fifteen teenagers.

Little did they know, a certain groom was still making his journeys looking for his missing son. Daniel had made a round of the entire house, and was now annoyed. He decide this time to check Arthur's room once more, as that was the only room he'd been polite enough to knock on (after that door he'd just barged in) maybe he'd forget about his manners again…

From inside the room, oblivious to the homophobe standing a few feet away from them, Arthur and Alfred were quite happily celebrating their relationship again, mouths locked in a rather 'passionate' embrace – though the two were both completely sober, the atmosphere of everyone around them seemed to be rubbing off on them, as the two of them felt a little light headed. Of course, neither of them cared too much; they were too into each other.

They were also too into each other to noticed that the door was slowly inching its way open. Most of the room had frozen now, detangling their legs from whoever they were entwined with or trying to hide away empty bottles from the man in the doorway. It seems the only people who weren't paying attention were Arthur and Alfred, Francis, who couldn't understand why Owain was batting him away, and Lovino, who was sound asleep.

"Arthur."

Arthur's eyes widened at the voice, jumping away from Alfred as quick as he could, and looked up to find his father standing in the doorway, a glare that could scare the demons of hell on his face. Multiple thoughts were shooting through Arthur's brain, but the most prominent one was _oh shit, oh shit, oh shit._

"Outside_ now_. I need a word with you. And you two," Daniel pointed at Alfred and then Owain, "You're next."

Arthur clambered to his feet, shooting an 'I'm sorry' look at Alfred, who was chewing on his lip worriedly. The whole room watched Arthur go out, most wanting to jump to his protection, but knew that'd probably only make the situation worse. The moment the door was slammed, everyone exhaled deeply, not realising they'd been holding their breath.

"Ah, now I see why I should've got off you, I'm sorry, _mon cher…_" Francis whispered, straightening his and Owain's tie, "I never thought I'd say this, but I do fear for your brother…"

"So do I… Though I have a feeling I'm going to get in deep too…" Owain muttered, shivering.

Alfred was moping moodily in his corner, not able to stay still. He had half a mind to tell the room to shut up with their mumblings so he could press his ear against the door and listen to what that bastard Daniel was saying. He'd record the conversation on his phone if he could actually hear it.

Obviously, Daniel was clever than that, and had gone into a different room and shut the door, glaring at his son.

"Now, do you mind telling me what the hell I just saw, boy?" Daniel's tone was quiet and calm, a sigh that he was at his most dangerous.

Arthur stared at his father for a minute, frozen with fear, embarrassment and shock, "I-I-I don't know."

Daniel chuckled, though to call it a chuckle would be like calling a clown from a horror movie cute or cuddly. It wasn't a _chuckle,_ it was an ice cold series of amused little grunts, each one a little sinister than the other, "Oh really? For some reason I thought you'd say that! Now, I know you saw that little conversation your mother and I had before where I said 'oh yes, I'll love everyone equally' and all that shit. I know you know everything I said then was bollocks – the only reason I said it was to get your mother to shut up and behave like a woman should; go and cook, clean, and make babies."

"You _bastard!"_ Arthur growled, unsure of what else he could do – he was completely powerless.

"Don't you _dare_ speak to me like that!" Daniel spat.

"Well don't you dare speak about my mother and your wife like that!"

"Clever, Arthur, clever. Changing the subject. You almost had me going off on a tangent then… But we're not discussing your mother here – we're talking about your sins." Daniel glared at his son, trying to prise the information out of him.

"I don't know what you're talking about, if I'm honest." Arthur said simply.

"Oh really? Well how about I tell you? You were sucking that American's face off! May I remind you, that American, _who is another male. _Do you have anything to say for yourself?" Daniel's tone was back to it's soft, evil tone.

Arthur looked up at his father, locking their gases as he said very carefully, "I don't see that as a sin. Neither does mum, of most of the people in that room downstairs. It seems to only be you."

Daniel grinded his teeth together, "You know just as well as I do that homosexuality is a sin. I've already had to deal with one fag in the family – but my own _son_ isn't going to disappoint me by being brainwashed by those evil sinners we call gays. So you can go back in there and tell Alfred goodbye, because I can guarantee this is the last time you'll be seeing that boy. We'll pull you out of Goverek, and you can go to a school closer to home. A normal school; mixed gender. Or maybe I'll just send you to an all-girls school; you'll fit in when they swoon about all the guys they fancy. But Arthur, I swear, if it's the last thing I do, I will beat this out of you. I am not having a gay son."

"Fuck you. I'm not going to tell Alfred that, and I'm not going to tell anyone that I'm moving school. Also, there is no way you're going to 'beat my homosexuality out of me'. I'm gay, and I accept that, and that is who I am." Arthur said rather calmly.

"You've been possessed by the devil, Arthur, and I'm not accepting that!" Daniel growled.

"No, Daniel," Arthur deliberately called his father by his first name, "I'm not being possessed by the devil, you're just deluded enough to believe what you're taught in church. Now, I'm not saying being Christian is wrong, I'm just saying that to say someone is 'possessed by the devil' is completely unnecessary. Try listening to what Mr. Edelstein said before; do you want to adopt the principles of a Nazi, Daniel?"

"You _insolent_ little bastard! How _dare_ you say that!?" Daniel purred with anger, lifting his hand up. Arthur's eyes widened, realising that Daniel was actually going to _hit_ him if he didn't move out of the way.

Scrunching up his eyes and turning away from the blow, Arthur patiently waited for the blow to hit him, until he realised it wasn't coming. Inching an eye open, Arthur looked up to see a strong hand gripping on his father's wrist, stopping it from moving anywhere. Arthur felt a grin spread across his face when he saw Miss Héderváry gripping Daniel's wrist, shooting her deathly glare at the man. In the doorway were a scared looking Owain, a disgusted looking Alfred, and a stony-faced Ivy.

"Get away from my son, Daniel." Ivy snarled, narrowing her eyes, enveloping Arthur into her grasp, hugging him carefully, "Get _out_ and don't let me see you again. Ever."

"What the fuck are you talking about, Ivy?" Daniel spat.

"These two genius boys ran downstairs and told us that there was probably something we'd want to see going on up here…" Elizabeta said, issuing to Owain and Alfred, "They were very right."

Daniel glared at Owain and Alfred, muttering things that weren't quite audible. He knew there was no arguing here – he'd been caught in the act, "Fine. I'll go. But I assure you, I will be back, even if it's only to pick up my items. You'll be begging for me back soon, Ivy, I can promise you that."

"You coward…" Ivy glared at the man.

"Yes, I am, but that is one of the easiest ways to survive in this world. Run away from anything that could hurt you. I'm running away know because I know there's no way I'll win against that psychopath," he pointed at Elizabeta, "Well, goodbye then."

"Don't bother coming back, Daniel." Arthur grinded his teeth together, with nods from Owain and Alfred, "No one wants you here, anyway."

"Well, boy, let me be honest with you – I don't really want to be here either. Until next time, though I hope there won't be a next time," Daniel raised his hand as a goodbye, undid his tie, and was out the door. The group heard footsteps going down the stairs, the double doors opening up, and then slamming behind him.

"Where's he going…?" Owain muttered.

Ivy shook her head, "I really don't care. I hope he rots out there… I can't believe I haven't listened to you, my lovely boys… come here…" she hugged Owain and Arthur, "And you too, Alfred – it seems you're my boy now, too." Ivy smiled kindly at Alfred as he joined in the group hug. In the end, even Elizabeta was hugging them too.

"Arthur, ignore everything that man said, okay? It's _fine_ to be gay, and I understand why you didn't tell me – you wanted to avoid what happened just then. But really, you can be _whatever you want._ And Alfred, I trust you love Arthur like he seems to love you?" Ivy smiled at the American.

"Of course I do," he beamed at the woman, "I love him with my entire heart!"

"Well I have no objections whatsoever. Now, I think we'd better stop talking about this before Elizabeta explodes from a huge nosebleed," Ivy chuckled, "Perhaps it's about time we called this thing off? I'll shuffle everyone home, and then you two can go to bed. But no funny business; I may admire your love for each other, but that does _not_ mean I want you doing… things… at this age."

"Don't worry, Ivy – we don't want that… not yet." Alfred explained, not sure if he'd perhaps said too much.

Ivy chuckled, ruffling his hair, "Such a charming boy, Alfred. Come on, come on, let's get some sleep."

As the group shuffled out of the room, Arthur smiled at Arthur, linking their hands, "Thank you."

"For what?" Alfred laughed, pecking Arthur's cheek with a little kiss.

"For being mine." Arthur smiled back, squeezing Alfred's hand.

"And thank _you_ for being _mine_," Alfred retorted, "I love you."

"I love you too."

* * *

**Epilogue**

"And that brings this assembly to a close. But before we all run out of those doors, I want you all to remember something…"

September had arrived, and with it, it brought not only a rainy season, but a new year of school. Standing at the front of the hall was the newly appointed Headmaster, Mr. Belischmidt, who was holding the first assembly of the year.

"Over the summer, I saw quite a few events that made me see things a little differently," the Headmaster caught Arthur's eye, "Some people, for personal reasons, have to hide away their true selves to the people they love. But this school is a place where everyone can be themselves, and advertise it as much as they want. No one will criticise you, and there will always be support here. So if you feel like no one will ever accept you, just know that there are so many people around you probably experiencing the same feeling. You're not alone, and you won't be shunned for being yourself. We will always be here for you; both as teachers, as parents, as guidance, and now and then as friends.

"In this school, there are so many different people/ People from every different continent – it's almost like you could say we have the entire world inside a castle. My point is, everyone is so different, but still has so much in common. Look around you; there might be more friends around you than you think." Mr. Belischmidt smiled, "But that's enough from me. Now go off to your dorms, unpack and relax for the rest of the day. Class starts nine o'clock tomorrow – don't be late, or there _will_ be punishment! You are dismissed."

The students of Goverek school all began making their way out of the assembly hall, all chatting excitedly. Arthur and Alfred were in step next to each other, grinning and linking hands. The two were now in year nine – the equivalent to 8th Grade as Alfred used to call it. They felt a lot older, yet somehow exactly the same.

"So how was the rest of your summer?" Alfred smiled.

"Hectic… Daniel came around again to get all of his stuff and there was almost a fist fight between in the hall between him and Alastair. God you should've _seen_ him! Even _Owain_ was a bit scared of him, and that's saying something. We _think_ he's gone for good, though the divorce papers haven't been signed yet. We're a bit worried that mum'll try and hang onto him… try and say that he's changed. I think that's what Daniel's banking on – we all know he isn't just gunna walk off like that. He's definitely planning something…"

Alfred sighed, "He's a persistent bastard, isn't he?" he rolled his eyes, "Well, at least we don't have to hide our relationship anymore…"

Arthur smiled, wrapping a hand around Alfred's waist, "That is a bit of a pro to the situation. Oh, I was thinking, why don't we push our beds together this year? I mean last year we slept in separate beds didn't we…? Well… If it's okay with you then…"

"Of _course_, Artie! I don't think I'd be able to sleep on my own, anyway. My mind would be distracted by the fact that my arms weren't wrapped around you."

"You corny…" Arthur struggled to think of an insult, "American."

"Are you trying to imply that there's something wrong with being American, honey?" Alfred grinned.

"N-No… oh for God's sake, just shut up and kiss me." Arthur muttered, flustered.

"With pleasure."

And thus started a new year at Goverek All Boys Boarding School. Both Arthur and Alfred were pretty sure that the next three years of school they'd share with each other would be an eventful three, but at the end of it they'd pull out alright. They'd make sure it was alright, because right at this moment, neither could imagine life without the other. They'd be fine as long as they had each other.

**A/N (You'll probably want to read this, because I'm talking about a sequel :D)**

**And we're done! Q_Q  
But don't worry :3 if you haven't seen already, there is a sequel up, called 'Things Change. Get over it.' Just click on my profile and it'll be in my story list! I promise you it'll be even more eventful than this :) or I hope so anyway XD  
I'm sorry I took so long with this chapter – I just couldn't get it right! D: But luckily after re-writing it (uggghhhh) I seemed to get it right ^^ and it's a long one! I wasn't sure whether or not to include the Epilogue in this chapter or the next, but it was teeny so I though 'oh what the hell'.  
But I need to say a huge THANK YOU! :D To absolutely EVERYONE who had favourited, reviewed, followed or read this fanfiction. I'm not lying when I say it wouldn't have been possible without you. Really, it wouldn't. I love every single one of you! /gigantic glomp/! And especially to those who have reviewed ever chapter (or nearly every chapter) thank you so much for your continued support.  
I love all of you Q¬Q /hugs/ thank you once again for continuously boosting my morale. This will not be the end of me, so if you like my writing and want to read more, if you haven't already, then follow me, and that way you'll keep up to date with stuff I'm writing XD  
Now I'm going to finish watching Glee XD  
THANK YOU EVERYONE! /HUG/**


End file.
